


Fire Signs

by bloodyfandom



Series: Dark Elements [1]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Murder, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 22:26:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodyfandom/pseuds/bloodyfandom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The whole world was up in flames.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spark

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: AU, slight angst. Language. The author is EVIL.  
> Author's Notes: I have not even watched the show this past season. I really need to catch up. But this fic has been sitting on my hard drive for a long time and I figured I would post it. Dark Elements is a five part series with multiple chapters in each part. It's not finished but if I never start posting it never will be.
> 
> This is going to be a very dark series of fic.

The whole world was up in flames.  
  
Gibbs tried to shield his watering eyes from the heat but his lashes were already singed, skin blistering as the fire licked higher.  
  
He backs away, searching for an escape when the screams start. With his heart in his throat he runs towards them and there's McGee, writhing in agony on the floor, engulfed in flames.  
  
The room is cold and he's sitting straight up, heart pounding and chest heaving for breath. He can almost still feel the blaze, skin hot and shivering against the persistent AC.  
  
"Boss?"  
  
Tony's in the doorway, hair in disarray, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.  
  
For a second he can't respond, the images are too fresh in his mind, his lungs still feel scorched but it was just a dream.  
  
Just a dream.  
  
It feels silly to say so, to reveal that he's sitting here shaking because of a dream. Nothing real, not even a twisted memory haunting him, just some wicked thing his own fucked up mind conjured to torment him.  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
Tony isn't buying it but he doesn't come any closer.  
  
"You don't look fine."  
  
Gibbs stands on wobbly legs and heads for the bathroom.  
  
"Gibbs..."  
  
"Go back to sleep, DiNozzo. I haven't needed a mother in a long time."  
  
Tony flashes him a quirky smile, "Everybody always needs a mother. We just don't always get to have them."  
  
The hand on his shoulder feels like ice.  
  
"You're on fire..." Tony breathes, "You feel alright?"  
  
"Nothing a shower won't fix."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
Gibbs heaves out an exasperated, "DiNozzo!" and Tony backs away, holding his hands up in surrender before turning back towards the guest room. He'll be glad when they're done with the repairs on Tony's apartment and he can have the place to himself again.  
  
Not that DiNozzo is a poor roommate - just that Gibbs prefers to fall apart in private.  
  
\--  
  
It had been a fire. Tony had lost some things, nothing terribly important. Not his life.  
  
Gibbs had stood next to him in the muggy darkness, squeezing Tony’s shoulder as they watched the fire fighters get things under control. He carefully doesn’t look at Tony’s wide eyes and slack mouth, doesn’t pay too much attention to the way the other man is shivering despite the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. It’s shock, the shock is making him stand there looking overwhelmed instead of cracking jokes or talking a million miles a minute.  
  
He had called and all he’d said was, “Gibbs…Boss, I need you.”  
  
That’s all he’d had to say. Gibbs was there and then he was guiding Tony away, taking him home and tucking him into the guest bed.  
  
“Get some sleep. We’ll go see what’s salvageable in the morning.”  
  
“Thanks,” Tony had whispered.  
  
Gibbs had only nodded and shut off the light.  
  
\--  
  
Now, two nights later, with half of Tony’s belongings crammed into his guest bedroom along with Tony himself, Gibbs is standing, staring at himself in the mirror wondering what the hell is wrong with _him_.  
  
He’s not the one who has to wait for extensive repairs to be done on his smoke damaged home, he’s not the one who lost half of everything he owns (mostly DVDs and furniture, but still). He’s not the one who almost died in his own bed. Gibbs shouldn’t be the one dreaming of fire and death.  
  
\--  
  
“Hey, Boss…uh…”  
  
“Those for me?”  
  
Tony gives him a lopsided grin and hands him the plate of toaster waffles.  
  
It’s too comfortable sitting here with Tony across the table from him so Gibbs moves to stand by the still percolating coffee, plate in hand.  
  
They drive to the office in their own cars and Tony grins broadly when Gibbs trails in moments after he does.  
  
“Morning, Boss!”  
  
Gibbs smirks and shakes his head.  
  
Then Gibbs’ phone is ringing.  
  
“Yeah?” he snaps into it.  
  
Tony watches him intently, halfway out of his seat, waiting.  
  
“Gear up, we’ve got another fire.”  
  
“ _Another_ , Boss?” Tony frowns.  
  
That makes Gibbs pause, eyes sweeping over Tony with thinly veiled concern.  
  
“It sounds like it was set the same way as the fire at your building. Nancy,” Gibbs holds up his phone, indicating their favourite dispatcher, “wanted you to have a heads up.”  
  
“Where?”  
  
“Naval housing, five miles south of you. You gonna be alright working this?”  
  
Tony takes a deep breath and nods.  
  
“Yeah, Boss.”  
  
“Good. Call Ziva and McGee,” Gibbs writes down the address and hands it to Tony, “I’ll go gas up the truck.”  
  
He heads downstairs and as soon as he’s in the elevator he flips his phone back open.  
  
“ _Hi, Gibbs!_ ” Abby chirps into the receiver.  
  
“Hey, Abbs. Got a favor to ask you.”  
  
“ _Shoot!_ ”  
  
Gibbs grimaces a little and plunges ahead, “Think Tony could use some TLC. Maybe a little distraction.”  
  
Abby’s silent on the other end for a moment, “ _You know it would probably mean more coming from you, right?_ ”  
  
“He’s in my guest bedroom, Abby, if I give him too much more TLC I’ll have to marry him.”  
  
That earns him an amused giggle and he smirks.  
  
“ _Alright, I’ll see what I can do_.”  
  
“Thanks, Abby.”  
  
“ _I love you too, Gibbs_.”  
  
He flips his phone shut and strides over to the truck.  
  
His gut is telling him it’s going to be a long day.


	2. Fanning the Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The summer heat is intense; the waves coming up off the pavement make the road seem slick and oily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: AU, slight angst. Language. The author is EVIL.  
> Author's Notes: Dark Elements is a five part series with multiple chapters in each part. If the title of the series wasn't a good hint, this will be a very dark series of fic. I will post warnings but don't get too invested if you aren't ready to read about murder, non-con and torture.

The summer heat is intense; the waves coming up off the pavement make the road seem slick and oily. They drive in silence in the comfort of the truck’s air conditioning, Tony’s usual running commentary replaced by the thrum of the engine. The building has suffered significantly more damage than Tony’s apartment complex and when they get there people are standing under a tree in a daze in the yard across the street.  
  
When McGee and Ziva get there they immediately start teasing Tony about random things. For a second Gibbs almost snaps at them and then he realizes they’re trying to distract a subdued Tony from whatever thoughts are in his head. There’s a brief surge of pride and affection that he tamps down on as he grabs his gear and heads towards the scene. He barks out his orders, sending McGee off to talk to the victims.  
  
Gibbs goes stiff when McGee sucks in a breath and then chokes out, “Louisa?”  
  
“Tim?”  
  
“Hey…God, this is _your_ house?”  
  
“Yeah,” she nods, wrapping her arms around herself a little more tightly.  
  
“Is everyone ok?”  
  
“Oh, God, yeah,” she nods frantically, reaching out to squeeze his arm, “The kids are with my mom and dad for the week. John is still in Afghanistan.”  
  
“Are _you_ ok?” McGee asks, gripping her shoulders warmly.  
  
“I guess?” she shrugs.  
  
McGee runs a hand through his hair and turns enough to notice Gibbs watching them intently. Straightening sharply, McGee’s mouth works soundlessly for a moment.  
  
“Uh…I…uh…Gibbs…Boss! This is um…Louisa Dufrayne. She’s a friend.”  
  
Gibbs puts on his best “sorry for your loss” smile and reaches out a hand.  
  
“Call me Gibbs,” he nods.  
  
“Tim’s mentioned you here and there,” she says distractedly, obviously still in shock, eyes flitting to the house as the firefighters stomp out.  
  
“So you already know I’m a bastard,” Gibbs smirks, surprising a genuine laugh out of her.  
  
“Actually,” she smiles, “I already know you’re a good guy. Tim really admires you.”  
  
McGee blushes and looks away when Gibbs’ gaze falls on him. Clearing his throat Gibbs nods and then gestures towards the house.  
  
“Mc…Tim’s going to have to ask you a few questions.”  
  
“Alright,” Louisa breathes, shrinking in on herself.  
  
Gibbs squeezes her shoulder and steps back into the blistering sunlight. He wants to wipe at the sweat on the back of his neck - more than that he wants to jump into a river or a lake. He’s never been a fan of swimming pools but they’ll do in a pinch. He resists though, reaching instead into his pocket for his gloves.  
  
“What have you got?” he asks Tony as he strides up.  
  
“Looks like it’s the same arsonist, Boss,” Tony replies crisply, “Fire was set with a cocktail of accelerants in a jar. Some of the fluid was splashed on the house before it was lit. One of our firefighters says that there were gas cans in the garage against this wall which is why it spread so fast. He also said the fire was set early this morning, right around dawn. Same as my place.”  
  
Ziva comes jogging over from a small crowd of neighbors, nearly crashing into Tony as he stands up from where he’d been taking pictures.  
  
“Gibbs! Mr. Lieder says that his house was broken into this morning. He heard glass breaking and a voice downstairs. When he came down to see what was going on the phone was on the floor and when he checked to see the last number dialed it was 911. He is taking me over to dust for prints.”  
  
She pauses for a moment and then blinks at Gibbs.  
  
“Well? Go on!” Gibbs shoos her off.  
  
Ziva turns quickly and runs to the truck grabbing a kit. Tony worries his lower lip, brow furrowed as he watches her go and avoids Gibbs’ searching gaze.  
  
“What is it?” Gibbs asks shrewdly.  
  
“The 911 call for the fire at my apartment was called in from a payphone across the street.”  
  
Gibbs nods and glances over at McGee who is still talking to Louisa. The second McGee had breathed her name he’d felt a sickly twinge in his gut. There’s something more here than some random fires set by a loony arsonist.  
  
“Boss?” Tony queries softly, sensing Gibbs’ unease.  
  
“I don’t know yet.”  
  
For a second he thinks Tony’s going to push it but then the other man simply turns back to photographing the crime scene.  
  
Though he’d never admit it, Gibbs thinks that out of everyone he probably misses Tony’s usual silliness the most. It’s always a good distraction from the sometimes oppressive seriousness of their career. If it weren’t for Tony, Gibbs is fairly sure that he would have burnt out on this job a long time ago.  
  
Processing the scene goes by fairly quickly but the heat and humidity make it seem much longer. Gibbs shifts; annoyed by the way his shirt is sticking to his lower back but his attention is still mostly focused on Tony. The younger man is slouched down in the passenger side seat, mind a million miles away as he stares at the dashboard blankly. Brow knitting faintly Gibbs reaches out and taps his knuckles against the side of Tony’s thigh. Startling slightly, Tony’s gaze snaps up and Gibbs holds his breath for a second, tamping down on the urge to swallow.  
  
“Yeah, Boss?”  
  
“Anything you wanna talk about?”  
  
Tony makes a face and shakes his head.  
  
“Alright,” Gibbs concedes, “For now.”  
  
“Boss…”  
  
“For now, Tony.”  
  
Sighing heavily, Tony leans back, “Gibbs, I’m just a little…my place almost burned to the ground, ok? I’m allowed to be…”  
  
“Upset?”  
  
Grimacing, Tony nods.  
  
Patting Tony’s knee, Gibbs sighs through his nose, “Yeah, Tony, you are. Gotta remember one thing, though.”  
  
“Which is?”  
  
“It didn’t.”  
  
Tony frowns briefly and then realization dawns just as quickly, sweeping over his features in a flash.  
  
“I know, Boss,” Tony smiles softly, “And thanks again.”  
  
“For what?”  
  
“Letting me stay with you? I mean, we’re not the Odd Couple but it’s pretty close.”  
  
“Which one am I, the slob or the anal retentive guy?”  
  
Snorting, Tony’s smile broadens, “I plead the fifth.”  
  
\--  
  
Tony doesn’t know Louisa Dufrayne and vice versa. It was a stretch at best, Gibbs’ gut told him there wasn’t anything to find there but he felt like he had to check anyway.  
  
That probably makes him the anal retentive guy in this odd couple but he’s surprisingly alright with that idea.  
  
When they get back to the house that evening Tony makes them baked fish for dinner and Gibbs pretends he’s interested in the show Tony puts on the t.v. when they sit down on the couch.  
  
He’s almost afraid to close his eyes. It’s been a while since he had nightmares like these – he knows why he has them, even if he doesn’t like to admit it.  
  
The worst part about them is that even if he did acknowledge it, even if he admitted to someone that he only ever has the really bad nightmares when people he loves are in danger, nothing would stop the nightmares from coming. The horror is gripping, it twists him up inside so that even if he wakes up falling back asleep is almost impossible. Soon there will be bags under his eyes and even the most potent cup of coffee won’t be enough to really make him feel awake. It’s the horror of knowing he can never really keep anyone safe - this reaching horror that drags him down even as he claws desperately, eyeing his salvation and escape.  
  
Tony wakes him this time, standing just inside the doorway, looking nervous as hell. Gibbs’ chest is heaving, throat hoarse from yelling, sweaty sheets still clinging to his shaking frame.  
  
"Get out."  
  
For a moment Tony hesitates, face unreadable, before turning and walking out the door.  
  
He doesn't go far, though. He's standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall. His gaze doesn't rise from the carpet when Gibbs exits the bedroom, heading for the shower, his hand snaking out to grip Gibbs' bicep. There's no judgment in Tony’s eyes, no expectations, no questions - only acceptance.  
  
Still, it's not something Gibbs wants to talk about. After a moment Tony lets go, Gibbs nods and they go their separate ways.  
  
\--  
  
In the morning Tony can’t quite look him in the eye. Gibbs can tell Tony wants to ask, wants to see if he’s alright but he’s too tired to be kind.  
  
“See you at work,” Gibbs grunts, ignoring the plate of food waiting for him on the counter and the brief flash of hurt in Tony’s eyes.  
  
He’ll pick coffee up on the way. He needs to be out of this house.  
  
He needs _Tony_ out of his house. He needs a little breathing room but at the same time he couldn’t live with himself if he turned Tony out in his time of need.  
  
Maybe Tony could spend the weekend with Abby. They could go clubbing, gossip, whatever it is they do in their off hours that Gibbs is positive he doesn’t want to know about. Ever.  
  
He gets to work early enough that Abby’s just getting in, surveying her domain with a critical eye as she wields a bottle of cleaning spray and a roll of paper towels.  
  
“Hey,” Gibbs mumbles, rubbing the remaining grit out of his eye.  
  
Abby jumps, startling comically and whirling around, before tossing the paper towels at him.  
  
“Oh my God, Gibbs! Don’t scare me like that!”  
  
“Sorry,” he chuckles, catching the roll and handing it back to her.  
  
He turns his gaze to her work station as Abby inspects him just as critically as she would a bag of evidence.  
  
“You didn’t sleep well last night,” she says with certainty, pulling off her gloves and cupping his face, turning it this way and that.  
  
“Nightmares,” he finds himself admitting.  
  
Biting her lip, Abby pulls him into a hug, “Are you ok?”  
  
Gibbs relaxes into the embrace and sighs, “Yeah.”  
  
“Are you lying to me?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Abby pulls back and smacks his arm lightly, making Gibbs huff out a laugh.  
  
“Is there anything I could do?”  
  
“…you think you could invite Tony over this weekend? Probably hasn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep in the last week.”  
  
Her eyes narrow again, brilliant mind coming to some conclusion but it’s only a flash on her face, expression of deep thought quickly replaced by a bright smile as she nods her head, pigtails flying wildly.  
  
“I’ll let him sleep in the coffin. He’s always wanted to.”  
  
Gibbs quirks an eyebrow and Abby pouts, “He totally has, Gibbs!”  
  
Shaking his head, Gibbs sighs and turns to leave.  
  
“If you need me you know I’m here, right, Gibbs?”  
  
He smiles and turns back around, reaching up to cup her cheek, thumb stroking over her cheekbone.  
  
“Yeah, Abbs, I know.”


	3. Running With A Heart On Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is quiet when he comes in today, giving Gibbs only a glance and a small nod of acknowledgement before he sits down at his desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: AU, slight angst. Language. Fake boobs. The author is EVIL.  
> Author's Notes: Dark Elements is a five part series with multiple chapters in each part. If the title of the series wasn't a good hint, this will be a very dark series of fic. I will post warnings but don't get too invested if you aren't ready to read about murder, non-con and torture. Unbeta-ed.

Tony is quiet when he comes in today, giving Gibbs only a glance and a small nod of acknowledgement before he sits down at his desk. He starts up his computer, throws a ball of paper at McGee’s head when he walks past which McGee deftly ducks after years of practice. It lands on Ziva’s desk and Ziva wings it right back across the aisle, bouncing it off of Tony’s forehead. He pretends to be mildly outraged but when Gibbs tells them to settle down there’s a tiny smile quirking up the corners of Tony’s mouth.  
  
It’s routine by now, like saying ‘hello’ or ‘good morning’.  
  
All they can do at this point is work on the information they have. Gibbs absently fills out forms and paperwork, picking over evidence as he lets his brain mull over the details. He knows there’s a connection between the two fires, beyond the obvious, and he feels that it should be obvious but it’s eluding him for the time being. Every once in a while his gaze wanders over the people surrounding him, McGee’s head firmly held in place by the thrall of technology, Ziva’s eyes glued to the details in the reports and Tony’s eyes scanning the photos and sketches. For Tony the photos and sketches are like movie stills, he plays them in his head like a film reel and Gibbs watches as Tony puts together the images in his mind’s eye. If there’s anything there, Tony will find it. Gibbs’ gaze drops to his desktop and he shrugs an eyebrow at himself.  
  
Somehow it always came back to Tony. They were friends – closer than the rest of the team – but it was more than that. Gibbs turns his mind and his eyes back to the screen in front of him.  
  
There’s something else here, but what is it? Somebody that Tony and McGee both know – not the victims, because Tony is one of the victims, technically.  
  
The arsonist.  
  
Gibbs sits back, eyes growing far away as he gazes at the wall just beyond Ziva’s desk. The arsonist is the connecting factor.  
  
He won’t say anything yet. It’s only two fires so far, they need more to go on.  
  
But when the evidence comes back on the accelerants used; it’s definitely the same arsonist. The idea becomes a full on gut spasm.  
  
‘Somebody both Tony and McGee know,’ Gibbs thinks. At some point they’ll have to sit down and figure out who they both have in common but Gibbs knows that could be any one of a thousand people. Tony and McGee did occasionally get together outside of work, seeing each other socially added another level to this. It might not be a disgruntled perp or one of a number of people dissatisfied with some action taken by them as NCIS agents. It could be a former mutual friend – maybe somebody they both dated?  
  
Gibbs mentally shakes his head at that – McGee and Tony didn’t have the same taste in women. He was almost entirely certain of that.  
  
He grabs his empty coffee cup and heads for the break room, frustration boiling up inside.  
  
They need more evidence. He turns on his heel, stopping at the divider next to Ziva’s desk.  
  
“Progress report!” he barks.  
  
They all startle.  
  
“There were boot prints at both scenes, Abby’s running them now,” McGee starts.  
  
“Because the fire at my apartment was originally handled by local PD we’re still waiting for all of their evidence, Boss,” Tony interjects, holding up a handful of photos, he shrugs, “The jar used to hold the accelerants was pretty standard – brown glass, possibly from beer bottles, they shattered and melted a little from the intensity of the heat so there’s no chance of getting prints off of them. The cocktail of accelerants was pretty potent.”  
  
“There were no prints besides Mr. Lieder’s on the phone,” Ziva grumbles, “we’re waiting for the tapes from the 911 calls.”  
  
“Abby got back to you with the prints already?” McGee questions disbelievingly.  
  
Ziva rolls her eyes, “No, but I took the prints from the phone and the prints from Mr. Lieder and any child could see they were the same.”  
  
“Oh,” McGee shrinks slightly.  
  
McGee’s phone rings then and Gibbs decides to take that as his cue to walk away before he can tear anyone a new asshole for things they really have no control over.  
  
It’s been one day and they really don’t have anything to go on except his conviction that Tony and McGee both know their arsonist, for which he has no proof.  
  
When he returns, coffee warming its way down his throat, he barely makes it around the corner when McGee bounces up. Tony is gone which is odd and Gibbs pauses, leaning against Tony’s empty desk as McGee rushes forward, practically vibrating with energy.  
  
“Gibbs!” McGee has his keys in his hand, making Gibbs raise an eyebrow, “Louisa found something at her house, I’m going to check it out.”  
  
“Where’s DiNozzo?”  
  
“He went back to his place,” McGee says distractedly.  
  
“To see if there was something similar there,” Ziva fills in, rising from her own desk.  
  
“Where are you going?” Gibbs asks pointedly, looking her over.  
  
“With McGee,” Ziva smirks, nodding her head after McGee’s quickly departing figure.  
  
Gibbs chuckles with annoyance, “Am I supposed to stay home and knit?”  
  
“You might want to go after Tony before he does anything stupid,” Ziva suggests.  
  
Shrugging his eyebrows, Gibbs nods, sipping his coffee again.  
  
“Might ream him out for taking off without back-up while I’m at it.”  
  
“And without letting you know where he was going,” Ziva smirks, waving as she takes off after McGee.  
  
Shaking his head, Gibbs grabs his jacket and his keys, hitting Tony’s number on speed dial as he heads for the motor pool.  
  
 _“DiNozzo.”_  
  
“So what did Louisa find at her place that convinced you it was a good idea to take off without letting me know first?”  
  
He can practically hear Tony wincing on the other end of the line.  
  
 _“Sorry, Boss.”_  
  
“So?”  
  
 _“So…? Oh! A statue.”_  
  
“A statue of…?”  
  
 _“We’re not sure yet. We’re just sure that it wasn’t there before the fire was set.”_  
  
Gibbs sighs through his nose as he signs a car out, nodding as Jerry hands him the key.  
  
“So you’re checking to see if there are any statues at your place.”  
  
 _“Yeah, Boss,”_ Tony says, sounding faintly muffled.  
  
“Anything yet?”  
  
 _“I don’t know,”_ Tony grumbles, _“It might not be in my apartment, it could be in any apartment in the building. It could have been destroyed in the fire. It…”_  
  
“I get it, DiNozzo,” Gibbs interrupts, getting in the car and putting the key in the ignition. He pauses a moment, sensing that Tony’s having some serious thoughts and waiting for him to spit it out.  
  
 _“…you think the arsonist is…you think it’s somebody we know? Me and McGee?”_  
  
“I thought about it,” Gibbs admits, “But we can’t jump to any conclusions yet.”  
  
 _“I don’t know, Boss, we’re pretty good at it,”_ Tony chides, grin in his tone.  
  
“I’m heading your way,” Gibbs growls, “Don’t do anything stupid.”  
  
 _“Yes, Boss.”_  
  
Gibbs flips the phone shut and turns the key in the ignition, buckling himself in. He taps his fingers against the steering wheel, another nagging idea worming its way into his brain. He brushes it off and decides he can think after he makes sure Tony doesn’t end up injured – again – or worse.  
  
He’ll be glad for a weekend alone. Abby promised him that and he knows he owes her for it, even if she doesn’t consider it a favor the way he does.  
  
He’ll take her out to dinner. There’s a weird little place he remembers in New Jersey that he had seen in passing and thought she would like. Little things like that always make Abby happy.  
  
As he pulls up to Tony’s complex he notes all the progress they’ve made on the repairs. If there had been a statue or anything else out of place there’s also a chance that it’s been tossed in the dumpster during clean up. Gibbs bites his bottom lip, surveying the place with a critical eye. He decides to do a second sweep of the outside before heading in.  
  
He hits Tony’s number on speed dial again as he circles the building, peering into the shrubbery and poking around in the overgrown landscaping. There are bits and pieces of construction material here and there, nothing suspicious. Gibbs is about to give up and head inside, turning towards the front steps when he sees it, sitting right there in the open against the grey stone that decorates the front entrance. It’s tucked into a corner, grey blending against grey and Gibbs shakes his head. If they hadn’t been looking for it they probably never would have seen it.  
  
It’s a little statue of a woman, bare-breasted and wild-haired, straddling what looks like a volcano.  
  
It’s then he realizes Tony hasn’t picked up his phone. He glances at the display and dials once more. The phone goes to voicemail again but this time he’s paying attention enough to notice. Gibbs strides inside quickly, ignoring the protest of his knees as he all but runs up the stairs. He dials Tony’s number a third time, listening for the ring. He hears it coming from the left and ducks under yellow safety tape as he makes his way past what appear to be the charred remnants of offices. He slams to a stop, hand catching what’s left of a support beam to stop himself from pitching forward as he comes up on a gaping hole in the floor. He sees Tony’s phone on the floor in the basement.  
  
“DiNozzo!” Gibbs calls, “Tony!”  
  
“Yeah, Boss?” Tony says from behind him.  
  
Gibbs startles and turns. He stalks over, eyes checking Tony for any obvious sign of injury. He grips his shoulder hard.  
  
“Don’t…” he stops himself. He shakes Tony once, shaking his head.  
  
Tony looks momentarily overwhelmed, nodding.  
  
“…sorry,” he says quietly, eyes glued to Gibbs’ face.  
  
Gibbs shakes his head again, “What happened?”  
  
“I dropped my phone,” Tony points up, “From the third floor.”  
  
Nodding, Gibbs lets Tony go.  
  
“Where are the stairs down to the basement?”  
  
“Um…” Tony points behind him, staring at Gibbs like he doesn’t recognize him.  
  
“Well, that’s where your phone is,” Gibbs gestures with annoyance, bringing a little bit of the snap back to his tone.  
  
Tony nods and turns to lead the way. The basement smells like smoke, damp and mildew. Anything that was down here was probably completely destroyed. Gibbs calls the phone again and Tony picks his way over debris, flashlight trained on the floor as he moves to retrieve it.  
  
Gibbs stays close as they make their way outside and Tony turns on the steps, not quite able to look at Gibbs.  
  
“Sorry I scared you, Boss.”  
  
“Shouldn’t have come here without back up, DiNozzo,” Gibbs grumbles, smacking the back of Tony’s head.  
  
“Right, Boss.”  
  
“Found something.”  
  
Moving around Tony quickly, Gibbs hopes that Tony will let this go with minimal fanfare. He doesn’t want to talk about it and he knows the ferocity of his reaction scared Tony about as badly as the thought of Tony getting hurt – _again_ – scared Gibbs but he is sick to death of talking right now. He just wants to get this case solved and Tony back in his own damn apartment.  
  
Tony quirks his head as he looks over the statue and then points.  
  
“How much do you want to bet that Abby will know what that is,” he grins.  
  
Gibbs smirks, “If there were anybody here to bet against, at least a hundred.”  
  
Tony chuckles and moves off to his car to get his camera. After they take pictures they bag it and comb the area one more time for any more evidence.  
  
Gibbs follows Tony back to the office, closer than he should, but part of him is still nervous, that fear still lingering in his chest.  
  
His phone rings and he flips it open without taking his eyes off of Tony’s car.  
  
“Gibbs.”  
  
 _“Boss!”_ McGee exclaims, _“So the statue Louisa found is of Ares.”_  
  
“We found something at DiNozzo’s place too. You and Abby’ll have to take a look at it.”  
  
 _“What’s it look like?”_  
  
“Half-naked woman hugging a volcano.”  
  
McGee practically chokes on his tongue, _“What?”_  
  
“Do I have to repeat myself, McGee?”  
  
 _“No! Uh…Abby?”_  
  
McGee describes the statue to Abby and she wrestles the phone from him.  
  
 _“That sounds like Pele, Gibbs.”_  
  
“Should I know who that is, Abbs?” Gibbs grumbles.  
  
 _“Touchy,”_ she shoots back, _“It’s the Hawaiian Goddess of fire and volcanoes, Gibbs. People used to sacrifice young men to her.”_  
  
“And what about Ares?”  
  
 _“Greek god of war, no human sacrifices...I mean, unless you count all the people that were slaughtered during actual wars.”_  
  
Gibbs feels a faint relief as they pull into the garage.  
  
“I’ll be down in a few minutes, Abbs.”  
  
 _“Ok, Gibbs.”_  
  
He hangs up and they go through the process of checking back in, handing in their keys and heading towards Abby’s lab.  
  
“Statue at Dufrayne’s place was Ares,” he says as they navigate the labyrinth of hallways.  
  
Tony frowns faintly, rubbing his chin, “God of war? That Ares?”  
  
“There any other Ares?”  
  
“Not that I know of, Gibbs.”  
  
“Then, yeah, DiNozzo. That Ares.”  
  
Abby rolls over as soon as they walk in, chair nearly spiraling out of control. Tony catches her, grunting faintly as they collide. She wraps her arms around him and smiles up into his face.  
  
“So, what did you bring me?”  
  
Tony holds it up, smiling back at her fondly, “I couldn’t decide so I went with something kinky.”  
  
“Ah, the old standby,” she nods sagely, plucking it out of his grasp.  
  
“I know what you like,” he shrugs, plopping himself down on a stool.  
  
“You got anything else for us, Abbs?” Gibbs cuts in before they can get going.  
  
“Standard, New Agey resin casts, Gibbs. Nothing fancy.”  
  
“ **New Agey**?” Gibbs repeats.  
  
“Well, yeah,” Abby scoffs, as if it’s obvious, “You know, Wiccans and Pagans mostly. They sell these in New Age shops a lot.”  
  
McGee pops up from behind a computer monitor, “No unusual stuff on this one. No fingerprints either.”  
  
“That one was outside my apartment so if there’s any dirt on it that’s probably where it’s from,” Tony offers, looking faintly disappointed himself.  
  
Ziva rolls out from behind the bank of computers where McGee is working, gaze going to the ceiling, “Wasn’t there a New Age fair just recently at Philadelphia Convention Center?”  
  
“And you know that…how?” Tony questions, eyebrow raising towards his hairline.  
  
“I have many friends, Tony, one or two who happen to be into that sort of thing,” Ziva smiles beatifically, narrowing her eyes.  
  
She pulls out her phone and shoots off a text message, “In fact I will just ask Ken about it.”  
  
Tony’s brow furrows faintly as he goes through his mental rolodex. He shakes his head so slightly that Gibbs barely catches it and then looks to McGee.  
  
“How about you, McWizard, any New Age friends?”  
  
“Um…” McGee shrugs, “I don’t know, maybe? I don’t really talk about that kind of stuff with my friends.”  
  
“So nobody wears pentacles or crosses or anything?”  
  
“Oh…probably,” McGee looks up, suddenly on alert, “Why?”  
  
“Just seems strange that you wouldn’t know something like that about your friends, McGee.”  
  
“Do you know that kind of stuff about _your_ friends?” McGee shoots back, looking mildly annoyed.  
  
“Yeah, McBadBestFriend.”  
  
“So what do I believe in?”  
  
“You were raised Christian but you’re a little agnostic sometimes. You go to church when you can but you don’t feel like it’s really important. Your mother gave you a King James Bible once but you’ve never read it.”  
  
McGee blinks, looking surprised, “How…?”  
  
“Because you told me, Tim,” Tony grins, “And I remembered.”  
  
His mouth opens but McGee shuts it again immediately, shaking his head as he turns back to the monitor in front of him.  
  
Gibbs focuses on what Abby’s doing with his eyes but his ears are trained on Tony and Tim’s conversation. He’s doubtful that this is an angle they should be pursuing but he’ll let Tony and Ziva dig a little deeper into it to see if they find anything useful. He listens as Tony alternately teases and gleans information from McGee. Ziva and Abby pop into the conversation occasionally, either chiding Tony for being ‘mean’ to McGee or questioning something one of the two men has said or injecting in a sarcastic comment of their own. Gibbs remains wisely silent.  
  
Once he thinks Tony’s beaten everything he can out of McGee’s brain, he straightens, cracking his neck.  
  
“McGee, stay here, help Abby figure out where these statues came from exactly. David, DiNozzo, with me.”  
  
Ziva and Tony pop up, trailing after him as he heads back upstairs.  
  
“Ziva, see if there’s a connection between Ares and Pele,” he orders as they step onto the elevator.  
  
“Yes, Gibbs,” she nods, pulling out her cell phone as it chirps.  
  
“Tony…” he pauses, looking the other man over, “anything?”  
  
Tony worries his lower lip and shakes his head, “Nothing yet, Boss. Need a little more time.”  
  
Gibbs nods as the elevator dings for their floor. The box of evidence from the local P.D. is sitting on Tony’s desk, McGee’s signature hastily scrawled across the receipt saying it was received, and he immediately digs into that as Ziva pulls up her web browser to start searching the internet for a place to start.  
  
For long moments he watches them work before taking off his jacket and sitting down at his own desk. Gibbs scowls at the monitor, not really sure which angle to let his mind mull over first. He’s sure the connection is still with the arsonist but then there’s the…the what? Clues? Obviously the arsonist left them there but are they calling cards or clues towards their arsonist’s identity? Or something else entirely?  
  
He needs another piece of the puzzle.  
  
They work late without making any significant breakthroughs and Gibbs finally concedes defeat for the night. No one has been hurt yet – and his mind jabs at him viciously to remember that there’s no certainty in that – so he lets his people go home to sleep.  
  
Tony’s fairly silent in the car, looking out the window.  
  
“You want Italian for dinner?” Gibbs offers.  
  
“Sure,” Tony nods.  
  
Gibbs turns onto the right street and Tony scratches his knee.  
  
“Abby invited me to spend the weekend at her place,” Tony says quietly, smiling a little as he looks up, “She said she didn’t want any of your crankiness rubbing off on me.”  
  
“As long as none of her music follows you back to my place I don’t care,” Gibbs smirks.  
  
“You don’t have to worry about that, Boss. Promise,” Tony chuckles.  
  
They pick up dinner and head back to Gibbs’, conversation dull and awkward. Tony just seems to be filling in the space because he feels like he has to and Gibbs actually wants him to talk, so he lets him.  
  
The house is dark and quiet but Gibbs’ eyes sweep over it, checking for anything out of place. The paper is still in front of the door, where he left it, so no uninvited guests – Tony always leaves through the garage and locks up after himself as a habit, no matter how many times Gibbs sighs and rolls his eyes. He asks Tony to grab the mail as he goes inside, flicking on lights and checking for any signs that anyone’s been inside since they left. Nothing seems out of the ordinary so he grabs some plates and some beer and listens for Tony’s expensive shoes on the floorboards.  
  
He realizes that Tony has become the bright spot in his otherwise lonely routine. It’s not the first time Tony has stayed at his place but unlike the other times they have no idea when Tony will be able to leave. Unlike the other times Gibbs is having exceptionally bad nightmares.  
  
Gibbs sits down at the kitchen table, focusing intently on his food and not Tony who is sitting awkwardly across from him.  
  
After he all but inhales his food, Gibbs washes his plate and just as he’s about to leave the kitchen, Tony turns a little in his chair.  
  
“Did I do something, Gibbs?”  
  
His gaze drops to the floor and Gibbs shakes his head, putting a hand on Tony’s shoulder.  
  
“No.”  
  
With that Gibbs heads upstairs and gets ready for bed. He’s too tired to even think about the boat tonight.  
  
\--  
  
The world is up in flames.  
  
"Gibbs!" Ziva yells, voice full of panic.  
  
He's off like a shot, McGee hot on his tail as they dodge debris.  
  
Tony is pinned under a beam, struggling to free himself as Ziva tries to use a charred 2 by 4 to leverage it off of him. Gibbs is at her side in a second, adding his weight to the mix and McGee grabs Tony's hands, pulling at the other man as the fire licks its way closer. Ziva throws her weight against Gibbs, knocking him out of the way as more ceiling collapses and McGee is standing back, singed and shocked.  
  
He watches as Tony's skin burns away from his bones, screams destroying him until there's nothing but the crackle of fire and the smell of burnt flesh.  
  
Tony is gripping his arms fiercely, looking at him with worry and Gibbs can't help the way each breath is tearing its way out of him, a drawn out grunt of pain as he remembers it was just a dream. He can't help gripping Tony’s shoulders, keeping Tony close and holding on tight, body still shaking with the memory of having to watch skin melt and scorch.  
  
"It's ok," Tony says softly, voice so painfully uncertain. Tony grips Gibbs’ shoulders in return, squeezing periodically. He's steady and solid there in front of Gibbs, a reassurance that the dream was really a dream and nothing more. A hand comes up to squeeze the back of Gibbs' neck and Gibbs leans forward, head bowed, as he inhales Tony's clean scent, cool and alive, before pulling away reluctantly.  
  
Tony's hands linger briefly, squeezing Gibbs forearms uncertainly as if he feels wrong about pulling away. But Tony stands, turns away without a word and leaves the room. Gibbs struggles out of the sheets, grimacing at the clammy feel of them and heads out into the hall just in time to see Tony closing the door to the guest room. He showers efficiently, drying himself off a little more roughly than usual. When he comes back to his bedroom, towel slung around his hips, the sheets are fresh and he stares at his bed for a while, some strange feeling of gratitude curling up in his gut.  
  
He pulls on boxers and a t-shirt, laying down in the bed slowly, blinking up at the ceiling for a bit until he finally falls asleep, wondering at the feeling that won't dissipate.  
  
He sleeps through until morning.


	4. Fire of Unknown Origin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case is getting colder by the minute as Saturday drags on but Gibbs spends most of that time doing a bad job of staying awake at his desk.

The case has no new leads come Friday so Gibbs sends Tony packing to Abby’s. Part of him – most of him – feels wrong about it but is still somehow relieved. The nightmares that night are so bad he doesn’t sleep for more than thirty minutes at a stretch and probably only two hours through the whole night. Saturday morning is a haze that Gibbs couldn’t properly recall if he tried – something to do with lawn gnomes and his neighbour Bob who probably needs to be on meds. The case is getting colder by the minute as Saturday drags on but Gibbs spends most of that time doing a bad job of staying awake at his desk.  
  
Saturday night Gibbs calls Abby, does an even worse job at subtly hinting to be put on speaker phone and ends up in a two hour long conversation with her and Tony where he does almost no talking except barely verbal noises that mean he’s listening. Tony goes on about the club Abby took him to the night before and Abby goes on about the club she’s taking him to tonight. There’s a bunch of fetish talk that makes Gibbs pay attention if only because he has no idea what they’re talking about. He knows the words but the way they’re being used is foreign to him. Tony is far quieter when Abby delves into the fetish talk which Gibbs understands to mean that he’s embarrassed because it’s Gibbs on the other end of the line. Gibbs isn’t sure if that means he’s interested in the stuff or not but he can probably poke at that later when he has Tony close enough to look at.  
  
Reassured that they’re both safe and having fun, Gibbs lets them kick him off the line so they can go primp. He falls asleep in the chair in front of the cold, empty fireplace but wakes up at three in the morning – a good five hours of sleep but he’d have liked more. He drinks some warm milk and crawls into bed for another few hours of shut-eye. A nightmare wakes him just before dawn but it’s mild and otherwise he feels rested.  
  
He’s lounging in bed, feeling annoyed with the nagging feeling in the back of his brain when his phone rings.  
  
This time there’s a victim.  
  
\---  
  
Tony stumbles onto the scene, bleary-eyed and faintly glittery. Ziva points out the eye make-up which Tony defends as “guy-liner” then grudgingly admits that Abby made him do it.  
  
Tim shoots him a sympathetic look but wisely says nothing.  
  
Gibbs watches Ducky and Palmer cart away the body with the kind of quiet intensity that his people have learned to respect – except Tony. Tony, very subtly, sidles over and lets their arms touch. It’s brief, only a moment of maintained contact, but it soothes something in him that Gibbs can’t define. Without even acknowledging that anything was shared, they both move off to process the scene. It’s all what they expect to find – the accelerants, the statue (Bile, the Celtic God of the sun), all the same except this time there’s a victim.  
  
When Gibbs tells Tony to go talk to the witness, Tony draws up short only two steps away. Gibbs turns around to snap at him but the words die on his lips. Ana Geist is standing in the yard, wrapped in a blanket, being comforted by a neighbor.  
  
She’d become a mutual friend by chance. They had met her on a case when they’d needed an expert in Latin; Gibbs had ended up taking her to dinner once or twice. They’d all ended up friends but had fallen out of touch in the last year.  
  
They both come to her side, offering condolences as they learn that their victim is her new husband, Lance Corporal Richard Mackey.  
  
“Who would do this?” Ana chokes out, gripping Tony’s hand fiercely.  
  
“We don’t know yet,” Gibbs says, voice low, but strong and confident.  
  
“Do you have a place to stay?” Tony asks gently.  
  
“My sister is driving up from Virginia. I’m going to stay with her for a while.”  
  
“Good,” Tony nods, smoothing her hair out of her face, “Tell Jen I say hi.”  
  
“I will,” Ana agrees, smile watery.  
  
“And she’s still a snot face.”  
  
Ana lets out a real laugh, if a weak one. Tony hugs her tight and guides her to sit down. He deftly maneuvers through the process of questioning her without sounding like he’s doing anything more than being a concerned friend. Gibbs thinks maybe Tony deserves a few medals of his own for that.  
  
“I have to go finish up,” Gibbs gestures towards her house, “Tony’s gonna stay with you ‘til your sister gets here.”  
  
Tony raises an eyebrow at him, scanning the crowd briefly before locking eyes with Gibbs again. Gibbs gives him the slightest of nods. Tony needs to keep an eye out for any familiar faces. There’s no question now. This case is extremely personal.  
  
“Thanks, guys,” Ana breathes, leaning into Tony.  
  
She looks on the verge of tears again and Gibbs lays a hand on her shoulder. The whole thing fills him with a tumultuous mix of emotions. He feels protective of Tony and Tim – Ana too – but also fearful of that loss that so often seems to find him. Then there’s the reminder of Shannon that always comes whenever someone loses a spouse - that all fills him with an unholy rage, of course. His reputation isn’t born out of nothing, after all. The rage is what usually wins out, so Gibbs lets it settle in his gut, in the place it’s carved out inside him – jagged and hollow. He stalks towards the side of the house with the worst damage and feels the familiar scowl slip back into place.  
  
Gibbs looms over McGee who is kneeling beside their most recent statue.  
  
“Yeah, Boss?”  
  
“You better have something better for me than ‘yeah, Boss’, McGee.”  
  
“I sent some pics to Abby, Boss,” McGee heaves out on a breath as he stands up, “but it doesn’t look like there’s much here. This part of the garden caught on fire and the statue is a little singed….”  
  
“And?”  
  
“Tony knows them?” McGee asks quietly, eyes intently focused on the statue.  
  
“Tony and I both know Ana.”  
  
McGee nods, biting his lip. Gibbs can imagine he’s worried about his own family and friends. The rage dissipates into something less consuming.  
  
“It’s not right,” McGee finally says after several tense moments of silence.  
  
“No. It’s not.”  
  
“To go after innocent people to get at us…”  
  
Gibbs glances down at where McGee’s hands are clenched into fists and he carefully grips McGee at the elbow. He doesn’t know if Tony shared their pet theory with McGee or if McGee figured it out on his own but that’s not what matters right now, so Gibbs puts it aside.  
  
“Tim.”  
  
McGee looks up finally, eyes filled with a fire and an anger that Gibbs has never seen before.  
  
“Use it to help you do the job.”  
  
Nodding, McGee takes a few deep breaths and goes back to work, snapping photos of anything that seems remotely useful or out of place. Gibbs catches a glimpse of Tony leading Ana inside out of the corner of his eye. He strides over, eyes skimming over every inch of this crime scene that was once a happy home.  
  
“Jen’s here,” Tony explains before Gibbs can get a word out, “Ana just needs to get some things.”  
  
Gibbs nods and gives Ana a reassuring smile.  
  
“Jethro?” Ana all but whispers, catching his sleeve.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I want whoever did this to pay…but…if either of you got hurt in the process, I just…I couldn’t handle it, ok? So don’t. Get hurt, I mean.”  
  
“We’ll do our best,” he promises.  
  
“Do better than that,” Ana says firmly.  
  
Tony guides her away but Gibbs trails behind, surveying the scene almost casually. All pretense of casualness is gone when he hears Ana say, “what the hell is that?”. Tony peers at the picture frame, head quirked slightly to the side.  
  
“Not yours?”  
  
“I might be a language geek, Tony, but I do take some small pride in my interior decorating skills. I would remember those.”  
  
Gibbs moves to Ana’s side, following her finger as it points out a series of framed prints on her wall.  
  
“Go get your stuff,” he orders, gently pushing her towards Tony.  
  
Tony pauses only a moment before taking her away, raising an eyebrow at Gibbs before he disappears down the hall. Pulling out a camera, Gibbs starts taking pictures and trying to figure out exactly what the hell is going on here. They’d have to go back over the evidence but Gibbs is pretty positive that if they’d seen these before he’d remember. And if these were new that meant the MO was changing. The game was already changed, of course. They had a body on their hands now.  
  
Apparently those few days of peace were just the calm before the storm.  
  
\--  
  
With the corpse on his autopsy table, Ducky goes through the process of preparing for the examination. Rigor has passed and he prepares to draw some samples to send off to the lab when he notices something in the man’s hand. Ducky frowns, quirking his head, prying open the fingers gently.  
  
“Oh, dear,” he breathes, “Seems your death was no unfortunate accident, my boy.”  
  
Ducky picks up the phone and dials Gibbs’ number.  
  
 _“Gibbs.”_  
  
“Jethro…Lance Corporal Mackey has a message for you - from your arsonist.”  
  
There’s a brief silence and for a moment Ducky thinks they’ve been disconnected.  
  
“Jethro?”  
  
 _“What’s it say?”_  
  
“Meet me in Cairo.”  
  
 _“That’s it?”_  
  
Ducky looks the rock over again, “I’m afraid so.”  
  
 _“Get it to Abby. See if she can get anything else from it.”_  
  
“Of course. And Jethro?”  
  
 _“Yeah, Duck?”_  
  
“I’m sure you were being careful before but perhaps you should all make extra effort.”  
  
 _“…Yeah, Ducky. Thanks.”_  
  
With that the line goes dead and Ducky turns back to the charred corpse on his table.  
  
“Well, dear boy. Anything else to say?”  
  
\--  
  
“Cairo?” McGee frowns.  
  
“Never been to Egypt,” Tony shakes his head, looking beyond annoyed.  
  
“So what else could Cairo be?” Gibbs growls, getting them to focus.  
  
Ziva is absorbed in texting and Gibbs scowls at her.  
  
“David!”  
  
“I’m asking Ken!” she says defensively.  
  
“So this Ken guy…” Tony leers.  
  
“Just a friend, Tony.”  
  
“Does he get a lot of Barbie jokes?” McGee asks, casting his gaze upwards.  
  
Tony and Ziva stare at him incredulously.  
  
“Really, McGirly?”  
  
“Shut up, Tony.”  
  
Ziva’s phone beeps and she fumbles with it for a moment.  
  
“Ken says there’s a festival in upstate New York…” Ziva blinks, “called Fire in Cairo.”  
  
She looks up at them, the atmosphere suddenly serious.  
  
“Seems like that fits our arsonist, Boss,” Tony observes quietly.  
  
“Find out the details, David,” Gibbs instructs, grabbing the sketch pad, “We still have work to do.”  
  
\--  
  
Several hours later Ducky comes back with a report. Lance Corporal Richard Mackey was bludgeoned over the head with a blunt object - a heavy bookend that they don’t manage to get any prints off of - but died of smoke inhalation. He was alive when the fire was started but thankfully dead before the flames got to him. Tony and Gibbs are both quiet as they listen to Ducky’s analysis, both thinking of Ana, eyes red and puffy as she twisted her wedding ring on her slender finger.  
  
Ziva’s phone beeps and Gibbs only just barely resists the urge to snatch it out of her hand as she reads the text message.  
  
“The event is next weekend, Ken says he’s spoken with the organizers and they’ll cooperate in any way we need,” Ziva smirks as she pockets her phone.  
  
“Work out the details, David,” Gibbs nods, “McGee, go check in with Abby. DiNozzo, with me.”  
  
Without question, Tony follows. In the elevator Gibbs hits the emergency stop and digs the heels of his hands into his eyes.  
  
“Hear anything?” he asks, trying not to sound as tired as he feels.  
  
“She’s safe and sound in Virginia,” Tony replies, “Jen tucked her into bed about an hour ago.”  
  
“You ever have more than just a friendship with her?”  
  
Tony blinks and then shakes his head, “We got drunk and made out in a bar once but…I mean, it never went anywhere, Boss. We never wanted it to.”  
  
“Ok.”  
  
“…how about you two?”  
  
“Took her out to dinner a couple of times but…never even got to first base,” Gibbs gives Tony a self-deprecating smirk, “Guess I didn’t do it for her. You know the rest.”  
  
Nodding, Tony bites his bottom lip, brow furrowed as he stares off at the wall of the elevator.  
  
“I feel like I should start calling up everyone I know and tell them to go on vacation.”  
  
Gibbs pats his shoulder and sighs, “Speaking of phone calls, how come Ana didn’t invite either of us to the wedding?”  
  
Tony gives Gibbs a crooked smile, “Shotgun wedding.”  
  
“Jesus.”  
  
“She’s six months along,” Tony continues, unable or unwilling to look Gibbs in the eye.  
  
“Fucking…son-of-a-bitch.”  
  
“They got married at city hall. Richard didn’t want the baby to be born out of wedlock - old-fashioned kind of guy. They were supposed to have a real ceremony in December, after the baby was born.”  
  
Gibbs punches the button and the elevator shudders back to life, taking them to their floor.  
  
“You got anything at Abby’s?”  
  
“A few things,” Tony nods.  
  
“Pack them up and her up. I want you both at my place tonight.”  
  
“Gut?”  
  
Gibbs grunts and strides out, wanting to punch something or fling something or just smash something into very small pieces - anything to get this anger out of his body, anything to stop the ricocheting ball of rage bouncing around inside his rib cage. He _hates_ – this perp, this world that spits out these fucked up people, his powerlessness to stop it all…  
  
“Boss,” Tony calls after him.  
  
“What?” Gibbs snaps.  
  
“We’re gonna get whoever this is.”  
  
“Didn’t know you were psychic, DiNozzo,” Gibbs smirks dangerously, ready for a fight.

  
He needs the outlet. He needs something.  
  
“On my mother’s side. See you back at the house,” Tony smiles, maybe a little too innocently.  
  
Gibbs takes in a deep breath. He should go to the gym, pound something for a little while - some _thing_ and not some _one_. Especially any of the someones he cares about. He _should_ do that – what he’ll end up doing is staying too late and being even crankier tomorrow. Except Abby comes up to kiss him on the cheek before Tony takes her by her place and then he sees McGee sitting there at his desk, diligently working away even after Ziva had gone home to sleep.  
  
“McGee.”  
  
Tim looks up, almost seeming annoyed at being interrupted. Gibbs tamps down a smirk and jerks his head towards the elevator.  
  
There’s a definite air of annoyance as McGee sets his work aside and follows Gibbs down to the gym.  
  
“Go get changed.”  
  
“Changed?”  
  
“We’re gonna spar.”  
  
Gibbs can’t help but be impressed by the fact that, if anything, McGee seems only more annoyed. A few years ago the idea of jumping into the ring with Gibbs would’ve nearly given his junior agent a panic attack – now Gibbs is just getting on his nerves.  
  
  
\--  
  
McGee puts up a decent fight and Gibbs thinks that maybe his junior agent needed this as much as he did. As they sit on the bench - sweaty and silent as they pull of their gloves - Gibbs wonders about their arsonist. Male or female? Arsonists were usually young and boys at that but this is an arsonist with an agenda. This person is sending a message. Are the fires themselves messages? Are they trying to say they were burnt by Tony and McGee? Figuratively or literally? The idea of a romantic tie pops up again but Gibbs still can’t reconcile the idea of Tony and McGee being attracted to the same type of woman – or, for that matter, the same type of woman being attracted to both of them.  
  
The questions are gnawing at him and just as Gibbs is about to voice one or two of them, McGee tosses a glove onto the ground with enough force that the sound echoes off the walls.  
  
“What I can’t figure out is who!” he growls.  
  
Gibbs gives himself credit for not jumping a mile out of his skin and simply nods, skirting his fingers over his tender ribs – McGee’s punches were getting more solid, more sure.  
  
“If it’s somebody that knows me and Tony…why? Why this? Why…why fire?”  
  
Gibbs shrugs, wishing he had an answer. He always wishes he had an answer, though. That’s probably the father in him – that part of him that wants to fix everything, to make everything alright. He sighs and stands, tapping his knuckles against McGee’s shoulder.  
  
“Come on, McGee. Not gonna find any answers sitting around here.”  
  
With furrowed brow and watery eyes, McGee looks up at Gibbs.  
  
“What if…?”  
  
Gibbs grips his shoulder, cutting him off.  
  
“Worrying about it doesn’t help put this asshole behind bars,” he says firmly.  
  
 _Hypocrite_.  
  
He turns and heads for the showers, not wanting his eyes to betray him. He’s worried even now, thinking about Abby and Tony, about Ziva. He’s gotten soft, he thinks. The only people burning the midnight fires were him and McGee. There was a time he’d have everyone here working until they nodded off at their desks.  
  
But then there’s his worry for Abby. She’s close to Tim and Tony – it puts her at a higher risk. If he keeps her at work she’ll keep working and she’s no good to anyone exhausted. Sending her home alone wasn’t an option, so of course Tony had to be with her, but then who protects Tony?  
  
Him?  
  
Did Tony even need protecting?  
  
Gibbs showers quickly, hair still damp as he pulls his suit back on, clothing smelling faintly of smoke and ash. The scent makes his stomach roil and he realizes he hasn’t really actually eaten yet today. He wonders if McGee’s eaten either.  
  
Without asking, Gibbs calls something in, and drops it unceremoniously on McGee’s desk after he picks it up. McGee’s eyelids are starting to droop but he eats and that seems to perk him up a little. A few hours after that Gibbs hears him snoring softly, mouth hanging open from where he’s slumped in his desk chair.  
  
Gibbs decides not to wake him. He’ll be safe here, safer than alone at home. Scrubbing at his own tired eyes, Gibbs shuts his computer down and grabs his keys.  
  
When he walks in the door Tony and Abby are slumped against one another on the couch, both asleep. Gibbs switches off the television and drops down heavily in the armchair, eyes sweeping over their still forms. It sets his gut somewhat at ease and he feels sleep dragging him down.  
  
\--  
  
The whole house is in flames.  
  
Abby is running through the fire, singed hair loose around her shoulders, skin blistering and peeling away from her bones. Gibbs reaches out to her, tries to move but he’s stuck to the spot.  
  
Something cool touches his face – a hand. He jolts awake, sucking in a quick breath as he looks around. Abby and Tony are hovering over him, looking at him with concern. For once no one asks him if he’s ok - probably because they already know the answer. Abby tugs him to his feet and pulls him over to the couch, tucking into his side while Tony sits on the far end, foot just barely resting against Gibbs’. They settle back down, unable to deny their exhaustion, falling back into reluctant slumber.  
  
In the morning the sun filters, hazy and golden, through the curtains and Gibbs sits with the soft sound of their breathing, not daring to move.


	5. Burnin' For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As soon as he steps out of the house he’s sweating and by the time he’s in the car his shirt is stuck to his lower back, grating on his already frayed nerves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: AU, angst. Language. The author is EVIL.  
> Author's Notes: Dark Elements is a five part series with multiple chapters in each part. If the title of the series wasn't a good hint, this will be a very dark series of fic. I will post warnings but don't get too invested if you aren't ready to read about murder, non-con and torture. Unbeta-ed.

The heat is sweltering. As soon as he steps out of the house he’s sweating and by the time he’s in the car his shirt is stuck to his lower back, grating on his already frayed nerves. Abby slips in next to him seconds later and Tony in the back seat a minute after that. Abby fans herself but Tony just slumps down and closes his eyes. Gibbs wishes he could go back to sleep too but there will be time for that later. Maybe.  
  
Starting the engine up, Gibbs pauses a moment to tell Abby to text McGee.  
  
“ _See if he’s still at work_ ,” he signs.  
  
Abby nods and gives him a thumbs-up when McGee responds. Gibbs gives her the barest of smiles in thanks and focuses his attention back on the road.  
  
When they pull into the parking lot Tony doesn't move and Abby turns with faintly worried eyes.  
  
“He must be really tired.”  
  
“We're all really tired, Abbs,” Gibbs smiles, exhaustion showing around his eyes and the corners of his mouth as he strokes her cheek.  
  
She kisses his knuckles and blinks back the tears in her eyes.  
  
“I'll go check on McGee.”  
  
“Good idea. I'm gonna go pick up some coffee. Give him a few more minutes.”  
  
Glancing back Abby nods and exits the car - pausing with the door open, she leans down.  
  
“I have a bad feeling, Gibbs,” she says softly.  
  
Their eyes lock across the distance and Gibbs feels it too – has felt it from almost the beginning. It's what's keeping him up nights, tortured by nightmares.  
  
“It's gonna be ok, Abbs,” he manages finally.  
  
For once, though, his assurances don't seem to mean much to her. She smiles sadly and nods, closing the door as quietly as possible. Gibbs pulls back out, heading towards his favourite coffee shop with a knot of unease tightening in his stomach. Tony's soft breathing fills the space and Gibbs leaves him there, car parked in the shade, slumbering the morning away as Gibbs orders coffee for his team, pausing at the QuikStop next door to grab Abby's CafPow! and a couple of energy bars for later.  
  
In the parking garage once again, Gibbs reaches back and puts a hand on Tony's knee, shaking it gently. With a soft inhalation and a scratchy groan, Tony stretches and rubs at one eye with the heel of his hand.  
  
“Wakey, wakey,” Gibbs chuckles, chewing on his lower lip as Tony peers at him blearily.  
  
“I fell asleep?” Tony questions, sounding confused by the idea.  
  
“Duh, DiNozzo.”  
  
Smirking, Tony taps the back of his own head and rubs the grit out of his eye, glancing at his watch. He sits up more fully, brow furrowing with confusion as he realizes the time.  
  
“We hit traffic?”  
  
“Nah,” Gibbs shakes his head, handing Tony the cup holder with all the coffee, “Made a pit stop.”  
  
“I slept through all that?”  
  
“Guess you needed it,” Gibbs shrugs, tapping Tony's knee with his knuckles, “Let's go.”  
  
They walks upstairs in silence but Gibbs can feel Tony's eyes boring into him the whole way. He ignores the prickle of that gaze, the way he wants to reach out and cover Tony's eyes, to close his own to keep out the harsh daylight and all its reality. As much as sleep has not been a friend of his lately, he wants nothing more.  
  
Gibbs heads for Abby, plucking his own coffee out of the cup holder, and Tony heads for the bullpen. Once in the lab, he gets his customary kiss and sits down when Abby crowds him onto a stool.  
  
“I think I've got something,” she bounces.  
  
Gibbs gestures for her to continue, sipping his coffee.  
  
“It’s called _Diversion_. It’s a marketing term,” Abby grins.  
  
Gibbs stares at her blankly for a moment and then sighs.  
  
“ _And_ , Abby?”  
  
“Each one of these statues is marked with a very small but distinct symbol,” Abby picks one up and points to what looks to Gibbs like nothing more than a small hole, “The company that made them does it to stop the companies that they distribute to from selling the product for less than the base retail price.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“And…I’m getting to it, Gibbs!” she turns and clicks a few keys on the keyboard, “I called them and they told me the company they use this symbol for is called Evening Star New Age. They mostly do on-line sales but they also do conventions and fairs.”  
  
Abby grabs a stack of paper, “This is the list of customers that purchased statues for the last year, it doesn’t include sales made at conventions but they’re trying to get me that list now. I’m feeding it all into my computer and I’ll see if one specific customer has purchased all of the same statues from our crime scenes.”  
  
Gibbs nods, “Good job, Abbs.”  
  
“…that didn’t sound very enthusiastic, Gibbs,” Abby accuses, setting her stack down.  
  
“Still haven’t found our arsonist yet, Abby.”  
  
“But we’re getting close, Gibbs! I know it!” her gloom from earlier dissipating.  
  
“Yeah,” Gibbs gives her a small smile. He doesn’t feel quite so confident.  
  
Looking unhappy with Gibbs’ response, Abby frowns.  
  
“How about the artwork, Abbs?” he asks before she can push the subject.  
  
She waves a hand in annoyance, “Cheap Wal-mart stuff, reproductions and plastic frames.”  
  
“Any way to trace where it was purchased?”  
  
Abby shakes her head, turns away from him and sits down, propping her chin on her fist. Sighing, Gibbs casts his gaze to the ceiling, an amused smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He comes up behind her, putting an arm around her and kissing the top of her head.  
  
“I know you’ll figure it out, Abbs.”  
  
“Well, yeah, Gibbs,” Abby scoffs, then wraps her arms around him, “but you’ve been so… _down_ lately. It’s like nothing makes you happy anymore.”  
  
“I’ll be happier when this thing is solved.”  
  
“I don’t think it’s the case, Gibbs.”  
  
He wraps her up in his arms so he doesn’t have to look her in the eye. He can’t lie to her if he’s looking her straight in the eye.  
  
“I’m fine, Abby. Just worried about my people.”  
  
“You sure?”  
  
“Yeah, Abbs.”  
  
She bites her lip as she pulls back and he can see the concern from earlier stealing over her features.  
  
“Ok,” she says, “but I'm here for you Gibbs. And I expect extra hugs today.”  
  
“Ok, Abbs,” he sighs indulgently.  
  
–  
  
“Status report!” he barks as he rounds the corner.  
  
He'll never stop being amused by the way they jump when he does that.  
  
McGee jumps up first.  
  
“Abby told you about Diversion and Evening Star New Age?”  
  
Gibbs nods and McGee pulls up the screen with the company's website.  
  
“I checked their site and they have a mailing list. I requested the records on that and a list of all the conventions and fairs they've done for the last two years. Get this, Boss – they're going to be at Fire in Cairo.”  
  
Ziva stands now, gesturing for McGee to switch screens. He clicks over to the Fire in Cairo site and Ziva sighs softly through her nose.  
  
“Unfortunately, Gibbs, Fire in Cairo does not to do tickets or presale. There's no way of getting records of who will be in attendance other than credit card records after the event. The organizers have informed me that most if not all entrance fees are paid in cash. Vendors pay with checks or money orders for the most part and the event draws in roughly fifteen thousand people. Costumes are encouraged and most activities take place in the evening. This gives our arsonist an advantage,” Ziva's annoyance edges through and she waves a hand at the screen angrily, “since they apparently know what we look like but we're not sure who we're even looking for.”  
  
Tony doesn't bother standing up. He taps a few keys and a grainy recording booms from his speakers. First there's the familiar response, “911, what's your emergency?” and then a robotic sounding voice. It announces that a house is on fire and the address, then the line goes dead. Tony plays three of these in succession – his address, Louisa's and Ana's.  
  
He doesn't say anything once they're finished and McGee shifts, staring at Tony as the other man scowls at his computer.  
  
“I didn't realized we'd pissed off Stephen Hawking that bad,” McGee quips.  
  
The corners of Tony's mouth just barely twitch up and he shoots McGee an almost thankful look.  
  
“That's all emergency services could give us, Boss,” he says finally, “The gas station across the street from my building didn't catch anything on their security cameras and no witnesses have come forward. I checked on service vehicles spotted in the area, no matches. In fact no one saw anything out of place at all, anywhere.”  
  
“That's creepy,” Abby mutters, popping around the corner of the partition.  
  
Gibbs stands up, coming around his desk, “You got something?”  
  
“I need McGee to come take a look at my scanner,” she winces, wringing her hands.  
  
“IT can't do that?” McGee sighs with exasperation.  
  
“They don't have your magic touch, McGee! Last time Emily almost crashed my hard drive!”  
  
Gibbs gestures for McGee to go and then comes to stand next to Tony's desk.  
  
“The robot voice?”  
  
“Could be any of a hundred programs, Gibbs. It's not a synthesized human voice, it's some kind of text-to-speech program.”  
  
“IT might not be able to fix Abby's scanner but see if they can't help you narrow down which program it might be.”  
  
Tony very subtly rolls his eyes at Gibbs' joke and grimaces when Gibbs smacks the back of his head.  
  
“On it, Boss!”  
  
–  
  
Tony makes the call down to IT, drumming his fingers on his desk until Gibbs shoots him a look of annoyance.  
  
“ _IT, what'd you break?_ ”  
  
“Hey, George! It's Tony DiNozzo,” Tony nearly breathes a sigh of relief. George was the easiest person in IT to deal with, “Do you think I could get your opinion about something?”  
  
“ _Does this involve me escaping the tech dungeon?_ ”  
  
“Yep.”  
  
“ _I'll be there in two minutes._ ”  
  
Tony hangs up and then scans his desk, looking over the evidence in front of him. The longer this case went on the more he felt like they were going in the wrong direction. Something was off, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He wondered if Gibbs felt it too?  
  
He startles slightly when George clears his throat, shaking him out of his thoughts. The guy is older than most of the tech geeks and prone to wearing t-shirts about gaming under his button downs (which never actually seem to be buttoned unless one of the higher-ups is making the rounds). But George is prone to sarcasm and barely appropriate jokes which puts him pretty high on Tony's “Favourite Co-Workers” list. He notices Gibbs has left his desk, off who-knows-where doing who-knows-what.  
  
“So?”  
  
“I just need you to listen to something and tell me if you recognize the program.”  
  
George shrugs and leans against the desk as Tony plays the recordings again.  
  
“It's not one of the high end programs, I can tell you that much. Sounds like VokalizeIt or maybe Vox-X, but I'd have to run a comparison to be sure.”  
  
“You wouldn't happen to have some free time right now, would you?” Tony grins.  
  
“Are you kidding? We just finished a round of maintenance on everyone's computers, Faruk just upgraded the servers so they should be ok for at least a month and Abby's pissed at Emily about who-knows-what, so unless something's on fire she won't call us. I'm dying of boredom down there. If you hadn't called I was going to hang myself with some DSL line.”  
  
Tony blinks, “Glad I could help prevent your untimely death.”  
  
“E-mail me the files and try not to get any more viruses this year.”  
  
“Will do,” Tony salutes.  
  
Ziva smirks at him from across the aisle and then shakes her head.  
  
“That was much easier than I thought it would be,” she admits, tapping away at her own keyboard.  
  
“The ways of nerds are mysterious and deadly, Agent David. Don't question their method or madness.”  
  
Chuckling, she taps a few more keys and then frowns, quirking her head slightly.  
  
“What?” Tony asks, getting up to invade her space.  
  
“I just received an e-mail from 'firelight@anonymail.com'.”  
  
Their eyes lock across the space and then Tony rushes to her side, leaning down to read it with her.  
  


capt’n this room is on fire

capt’n, this body will not stop burning

capt’n oh my captain this burning has become a body

capt’n oh my captain this child is ash

capt’n oh my captain my hands pass right through her

capt’n oh my captain I don’t know what it is I’m looking at

  
Tony pushes away after having read it over no less than five times and Ziva leans back in her chair, pulling out her phone. She hits McGee's number on speed dial and taps a finger on her leg.  
  
“ _Yeah, Ziva?_ ”  
  
“I just received a very cryptic e-mail, McGee. Do you suppose that when you're done with Abby's scanner you could come back upstairs and hack something?”  
  
“ _I'm on my way._ ”  
  
Ziva hangs up and notices Tony pacing, a furious look on his face.  
  
“Tony.”  
  
He pauses, anger flashing in his eyes as they meet her's.  
  
“I am going to do an internet search but I am becoming quite tired of staring at the computer screen.”  
  
Blinking for a moment, Tony realizes what Ziva's asking for, nods tersely and then heads for the break room. Coffee isn't going to do anything for him right now but he definitely needs a second to clear his head.  
  
“Where you going, DiNozzo?” Gibbs grumbles.  
  
“Coffee. Ziva needs to show you something,” Tony shoots back, not even slowing down.  
  
When he returns he feels a little less on edge but McGee looks faintly murderous. Ziva shakes her head at him when he gives her a questioning look and he hands her a cup of the sludge they dare to call coffee here. She nods her thanks and goes back work.  
  
Tony's phone rings.  
  
“DiNozzo.”  
  
“ _It's definitely from VokalizeIt_ ,” George says triumphantly, “ _It's a website with free text-to-speech software. They have more real sounding voices but you have to pay for those_.”  
  
“Any way to trace who downloaded it?”  
  
“ _No, but if you find a computer with the software on it I can prove the recording was created on that PC. I mean, you know...unless they manage to really wipe the drive_.”  
  
“Can you see if you can pull anything else from the recording? Background noises, whatever?”  
  
“ _If it means I have something to do besides listen to Emily and Faruk argue about Bollywood, you bet your sweet ass_.”  
  
“Thanks, George. And thanks for noticing my ass.”  
  
“ _...well, they don't call you Special Agents for nothing_.”  
  
With that the line goes dead and Tony pockets his phone. He ignores the strange looks from his team and sits down, feeling better now that they seem to be picking up some momentum on the case.  
  
McGee curses and shoves his keyboard away, propping his head in his hand.  
  
“Something you wanna share with the class, McGee?” Gibbs drawls.  
  
“Anonymail blocks IP addresses. They don't require personal information to set up an account. All you need to do is create a username and a password. No security question, nothing. I can't trace anything.”  
  
“Can we get a warrant to...” Tony starts to ask, waving a hand around when words fail him.  
  
“Tony, it won't help,” McGee sighs, “They don't have any information for us to get a warrant _for_.”  
  
“That shouldn't be legal,” Tony mutters.  
  
–  
  
The rest of the day is uneventful. The e-mail makes no sense, even after Ziva finds the rest of the text.  
  
“It's a poem by Nick Flynn,” she announces, putting special emphasis on the name.  
  
“Sound familiar?” Gibbs asks, looking between Tony and McGee.  
  
“Sorry, Boss, I'm not really into poetry,” Tony grimaces.  
  
“Me neither,” McGee shrugs.  
  
“You are a writer, though,” Ziva points out, “Does Tony know any of your writer friends?”  
  
“Uh...” McGee casts his gaze towards the ceiling, going over his mental rolodex.  
  
“I can answer that,” Tony snorts, “No.”  
  
“...I think he's right. I don't have many 'writer friends' and I'm pretty sure I've never introduced any of them to Tony.”  
  
“Not that you're ashamed of me, McNovelist.”  
  
“More like I'm protecting you. It's bad enough if I write about you. Other people might not be so kind.”  
  
Tony makes a face and McGee shoots a rubber band at him.  
  
Gibbs pinches the bridge of his nose and reaches for his coffee cup, frowning when he feels how light it is.  
  
“Could it be a deranged fan?”  
  
“It doesn't seem very likely, Boss,” McGee quails when Gibbs glares at him, “but I'll check with my publisher and see if they've noticed any weird fanmail.”  
  
“Why would they target just me and McGee?” Tony asks.  
  
“Ziva just got an e-mail,” Gibbs points out.  
  
“But the people targeted...” Tony begins.  
  
“Just look into it!” Gibbs snaps.  
  
Biting his lip, Tony nods and sits down, not really knowing what to do until an interoffice IM pops up on his screen.  
  
 **tmcgee:** I don't think it's going to lead anywhere either, Tony.  
  
 **adinozzo:** So, McFamous, what do we do?  
  
 **tmcgee:** Angela's my agent, she'll let me know if anything looks suspicious. She's good at sniffing out the really deranged ones.  
  
Tony's phone rings again with George on the other end. There's nothing besides crickets, a dog barking and the distant hum of traffic in the background on any of the calls. Tony thanks George and hangs up, taking a second to mull over the details.  
  
 **adinozzo:** So, somebody we both know.  
  
 **tmcgee:** Have we had any cases with fire that stand out for you?  
  
 **adinozzo:** No. We don't have many mutual friends, either. I can't see Gina or Rick doing this.  
  
 **tmcgee:** Or Nadia or Cynthia.  
  
 **adinozzo:** Mmm...Cynthia.  
  
 **tmcgee:** Still a lesbian.  
  
 **adinozzo:** I didn't forget, Tim.  
  
 **tmcgee:** Yeah, but she asked me to remind you as often as possible just in case.  
  
 **adinozzo:** Neither of you really love me.  
  
 **tmcgee:** Nope. We've never dated any of the same women, have we?  
  
 **adinozzo:** I hope not.  
  
 **tmcgee:** Tony!  
  
 **adinozzo:** I mean it. I do have some standards.  
  
 **tmcgee:** Jerk.  
  
“Quit _chatting_ and get back to work!” Gibbs barks, not looking up from the file he's perusing.  
  
“We're comparing notes!” Tony says defensively.  
  
“Yeah? So I can come over there and read it?” Gibbs shoots back, peering up over his glasses.  
  
Tony opens his arms in invitation, scooting his chair away from his desk. Gibbs cracks his neck, sighing through his nose heavily as he gets to his feet and stalks over. He glances over the IM and then tilts his head to the side, smacking Tony upside the head.  
  
“Ow! Aw, c'mon, Boss, what was that for?”  
  
“The half of that conversation that didn't need to happen.”  
  
–  
  
As they're leaving for the night, Gibbs pops into Abby's lab, frowning when he rounds the corner to find the lights out and the space empty.  
  
“Abby?”  
  
Tony shuffles in seconds later, stumbling to a stop.  
  
“Um...”  
  
Whipping out his phone, Gibbs turns back towards the elevator and Tony jogs to catch up just as the doors slide open. Abby picks up but before he can say anything she starts talking a mile a minute.  
  
“ _I couldn't do anything else for the night and I needed to get some stuff from my apartment so I just took a cab. I'm being safe, Gibbs, I promise!_ ”  
  
“Damnit, Abby...” he growls.  
  
“ _My cab hasn't even gotten off the highway yet. By the time you get here I'll have everything I need._ ”  
  
“We'll be there in ten. Don't go in that apartment alone!”  
  
“ _Gibbs..._ ” she whines.  
  
“Don't argue with me, Abby, just do it!”  
  
With that Gibbs hangs up. Tony slides into the passenger seat, looking just about as worried as Gibbs feels. They're on the highway when Gibbs' phone rings and he fishes it out of his pocket, barking out his customary greeting.  
  
It's Abby but she's too hysterical for him to understand. His foot inches down on the accelerator as he tries to get her to breathe.  
  
“Abby, calm down, what happened? Where are you?”  
  
“ _At my apartment!_ ” she sobs, “ _OhmyGod, Gibbs!_ ”  
  
They see the smoke from the highway exit, dark and foreboding against the orange of the sunset. It feels like the air has been sucked out of the car. Gibbs tosses his phone to Tony who fumbles to catch it. He breaks every speed limit for twenty miles and guns it through two yellow lights.  
  
“We're almost there, Abby, just hold on,” Tony soothes, holding tightly to the door handle with white knuckles.  
  
Gibbs only slows down when they hit her block, the street congested with people, cars, and emergency vehicles. They have to park down the road on a swale, jogging down to where a neighbour is trying to get Abby to sit down on a bench. As soon as she sees Gibbs she flies into his arms and Tony glances over at the building, staggering to a stop, eyes wide and jaw slack.  
  
The whole building is consumed in flames, firefighters struggling to put the blaze out. He stumbles closer, putting his hand on her back, unable to tear his eyes away from the destruction.  
  
“M-Mrs. Johnson,” she sobs, “s-s-she didn't...”  
  
Tony remembers Mrs. Johnson, the old lady in 4B. She was hooked up to an oxygen tank and was barely mobile. His eyes trail up to Abby's apartment, the glass blown out, flames licking out towards the sky.  
  
“Let's go,” he says hoarsely, gently pushing Gibbs and Abby in the direction of the car.  
  
They don't get much farther than the couch once they're in Gibbs' house. None of them are particularly hungry and though exhaustion has settled deep into their bones sleep doesn't seem likely to come any time soon.  
  
After Abby stops crying she stares at the wall, curled in a ball on the couch between them.  
  
Gibbs tucks her hair behind her ear, “We'll go pick up some clothes and stuff for you in the morning.”  
  
Abby doesn't say anything, only curls in on herself a little more.  
  
“It's gonna be ok, Abbs. We...”  
  
“Just shut up, Gibbs,” she whispers hoarsely.  
  
Not missing the flash of hurt on Gibbs' face, Tony reaches out and touches his shoulder, giving him a sad, half-smile.  
  
“I've got some sleeping pills upstairs. You want one?” Tony asks softly.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Gibbs watches Tony shuffle past them with a furrowed brow. He doesn't know what to do for Abby right now, he's never seen her like this before. She's never rejected his comfort or his touch. It's even more confusing to him that it's Tony who seems to know what she needs.  
  
When Tony returns, Gibbs and Abby are both staring off at the far wall, quiet and pale in the evening light - Gibbs with his hands in his lap and Abby still curled tightly in a ball.  
  
“Here you go,” Tony says firmly, placing sleeping pills and glasses of water in both Abby and Gibbs' hands. He sits down with his own pill and glass of water, raising it in a toast. Abby downs her's immediately, chugging her water. Gibbs stares at the small pill in his palm for long moments, glancing over at Tony who gives him an encouraging smile and then knocks it back dry, sipping the water as an afterthought and sinking back into the cushions. Tony pinches his between his forefinger and thumb, placing it carefully on his tongue before taking a swig of water and tossing his head back, wincing as he swallows.  
  
Gibbs gets up, driven into action by the oppressive silence, scrounging up some sheets and blankets for Abby. Tony takes their glasses to the kitchen so Gibbs tosses the pile of bedding on the couch, heading up to his bedroom to bring Abby one of his shirts to wear to bed while Tony fixes the couch up for her. She changes right there, unashamed and uncaring, before crawling under the covers. Tony kneels down, kissing her hand and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. Gibbs bends down and kisses her forehead. She lays her hand on his cheek and then turns over when he pulls away. Tony tugs on his jacket, so he follows wordlessly up the steps, feeling the exhaustion edging towards sleepiness as his eyes start to feel heavier.  
  
“What was all that about?” Gibbs asks quietly as soon as they're in his room.  
  
“...it's not going to be ok, Gibbs.”  
  
That knocks all the wind out of him. It's true, after all. Abby just lost people she cared about – lost her home, her belongings. And she wasn't a field agent – she wasn't meant to be in the crossfire, wasn't made for dealing with this kind of loss and guilt.  
  
Warm hands settle on his shoulders and Gibbs glances back. He brings his own hand up, fingers just barely resting on fingers, a breath of a touch.  
  
“But we'll be ok,” Tony says, sounding as if he's trying to reassure himself too.  
  
Tony pulls away, giving Gibbs' shoulder a final squeeze before heading to the guest room. For long moments Gibbs stands there, hand remaining where Tony's had been, staring at the doorway, the ghost of Tony's warmth lingering. When he lies down in the bed the feelings of unease that have plagued him all these long days and nights churn in his gut.  
  
In the dark Gibbs stares at the ceiling and tries not to fight against sleep as it overcomes him.


	6. Smoke and Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the morning Gibbs swims through the fog of medicated sleep and blinks against the sunlight stabbing at his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: AU, slight angst, dead bodies. Language. The author is EVIL.  
> Author's Notes: Dark Elements is a five chapter series with multiple parts in each chapter. If the title of the series wasn't a good hint, this will be a very dark series of fic. I will post warnings but don't get too invested if you aren't ready to read about murder, non-con and torture. Unbeta-ed.
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful GF for helping me with the techspeak! <3

In the morning Gibbs swims through the fog of medicated sleep and blinks against the sunlight stabbing at his eyes. He groggily sits up, planting his feet on the floor with difficulty. His head feels heavy, his tongue feels dry, but he slept without incident and for that much he’s grateful.  
  
It takes him a few minutes to trudge into the bathroom but the shower helps clear some of the cobwebs from his brain. After that he starts moving at something resembling his normal pace, getting dressed and making it downstairs to find Tony in the kitchen making them all breakfast.  
  
In that moment it occurs to him that they’d abandoned the scene of a crime.  
  
“Shit,” he breathes.  
  
Tony startles and turns, blinking at him. He’s wearing an apron that he dug up from who-knows-where and Gibbs tilts his head with mild confusion, trying to remember which ex-wife left it behind.  
  
“Shit?” Tony prods.  
  
“The scene,” Gibbs grumbles, doing his best not to take his annoyance with himself out on Tony.  
  
Tony frowns for a second and then waves a hand in the air when he realizes what Gibbs is upset about.  
  
“I texted McGee last night. He and Ziva went down and did what they could,” Tony drops some scrambled eggs on to three plates and then dumps the frying pan in the sink, “But anyway, Boss, we can’t get anywhere near there until the Fire Marshal declares it safe. That’s probably not going to be until around noon.”  
  
Gibbs winces faintly, striding over to pour himself a cup of coffee.  
  
“Right,” he mumbles, then glances at Tony, “good job.”  
  
Tony shrugs, not seeming to take his usual pleasure in the compliment, “Abby took my car to the store.”  
  
“You let her drive your car?” Gibbs scoffs disbelievingly, eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline.  
  
“I’d let her redecorate my apartment and give me a makeover too if it’d make her smile again,” Tony says a little too softly.  
  
Ducking his head, Gibbs nods. He knows the feeling. A world where Abby wasn’t smiling and cheerful wasn’t a world he particularly wanted to live in.  
  
He watches Tony make toast and fumble with a pan of bacon as he pulls it from the oven. He’d never pegged Tony for being good at anything resembling domesticity.  
  
“Where’d you learn how to cook?”  
  
Tony goes to the fridge, fishing out the orange juice and the creamer for his coffee.  
  
“What, like my dad bothered trying to feed me real food?”  
  
Gibbs catches Tony by the apron strings and gives them a slight tug. Rolling his eyes a little, Tony sighs.  
  
“I taught myself. I went through this phase, some time before puberty, where I watched nothing but cooking shows. I can only be thankful Martha Stewart was after my time.”  
  
“Why?” Gibbs chuckles, sipping his coffee.  
  
“I might’ve gotten into arts and crafts,” Tony intones solemnly, “do you have any idea how dangerous that would have been, Gibbs? Seriously.”  
  
“That smells good,” Abby calls from the hallway, “is some of it for me?”  
  
They realize, simultaneously, how close they’re standing. Tony moves away, clearing his throat. Gibbs turns to top off his coffee.  
  
“Do you even have to ask, O, Mistress of Darkness?” Tony booms, adopting a theatrical tone.  
  
She gives them a small smile as she comes into the kitchen. It doesn’t have her usual flair but the black dress is flattering on her figure. The jacket is cheap leather but Gibbs will bet money there are studs in the plastic bag she’s clutching. She’ll probably be wearing those shoes and that collar for a while but he might see if McGee will help him order some stuff on-line to help with that.  
  
“So?” she asks, giving a small twirl.  
  
“It’ll do for now,” Gibbs nods, biting back a smirk.  
  
She smiles a little wider and sits down at the table. Tony serves up breakfast and Gibbs makes himself be sociable. Watching the two of them slowly slipping their lives back into place as best they can, it occurs to Gibbs that he’s been slipping lately in more ways than he’s comfortable with.  
  
“Pretty stupid of us to all be knocked out last night,” he mutters.  
  
The smiles on their faces fade and they nod.  
  
“I checked the fire alarms before bed,” Tony assures him quietly. “You were knocked out already.”  
  
“Anything you didn’t do last night, Tony?”  
  
That gets him a faint blush and Abby bites her lip, trying to hide her smile behind her glass of juice.  
  
“Let’s get going,” Gibbs grunts as he stands up, scooping up their plates and taking them to the sink.  
  
When they leave the house Gibbs can’t quite help glancing back and wondering what he’d do if he lost this place. How he’d cope with the loss of his photos, of everything that’s left of his girls, his mother’s copy of ‘Dandelion Wine’, his grandpa’s simple, carved wood cross (the one that gave him an interest in wood-working in the first place)…  
  
He shakes it off and gets in the car. There’s no point in worrying. He’s getting on in years and he’s got no one to leave those things to anyway.  
  
“Gibbs?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“You ok?”  
  
“Yeah, Abbs.”  
  
\--  
  
As soon as they walk in the door McGee is there wrapping Abby up in a hug. Gibbs lets it go – doesn’t ask how long McGee has been sitting there, if he’d even been home last night at all. Abby lingers there only a moment before pulling back.  
  
“I’m ok,” she assures him with a small smile.  
  
“You sure?” McGee asks, peering into her face with concerned eyes.  
  
“Yeah. We should get to work.”  
  
McGee nods, staying close by her side until they hit the elevators; his gaze following her as she makes to go downstairs.  
  
“Go help Abby process evidence. We’ll call you up when we need you,” Gibbs orders, not even giving McGee a second glance as he strides onto the elevator.  
  
“Thanks, Boss!” McGee says quickly as the doors slide shut.  
  
“I’ll call the fire department,” Tony says lowly, “see if they’ve given it the all clear.”  
  
Gibbs lingers on the elevator as Tony strides off. Tony pauses, turning with confusion.  
  
“Gonna go talk to Ducky. Ask Ziva for an update on what her and McGee found last night. Text it to me.”  
  
Tony’s confusion is only increased by that statement but he nods and heads for his desk as Gibbs presses the button for the basement. Gibbs chews on his lower lip, trying not to think too much as he walks into Autopsy.  
  
“Jethro! What brings you down here?”  
  
“…you hear about what happened at Abby’s?”  
  
Ducky’s cheerful demeanor is quickly replaced by serious concern.  
  
“Is she alright?”  
  
“She wasn’t hurt,” Gibbs says, quick to ease the worst of Ducky’s fears, “but her apartment building was set on fire. There were casualties. It was bad.”  
  
Sighing heavily through his nose, Ducky sits down on a stool and stares at the floor.  
  
A soft beep lets Gibbs know he’s received a text then and he pulls out his phone, not even feeling his usual annoyance with having to put on his reading glasses.  
  
“ _Took them until 4 this morning 2 get the fire completely out. Fire Marshal is still inspecting the place. 5 ppl unaccounted 4. Major structural damage._ ”  
  
“I’m relieved to hear that dear Abigail wasn’t hurt…but that hardly answers the question. Is she alright?”  
  
Gibbs' gaze flicks up and he exhales, shaking his head as he turns his attention back to his phone to open another text.  
  
“ _Fire Marshal is telling me him & his ppl R staying on site for our safety. He wants us 2 head over now._”  
  
“I gotta go, Duck. Wanted to ask you a favor.”  
  
“Of course, Jethro, anything.”  
  
“Abby was holed up at my place last night but I don’t want her alone there this weekend. Team’s heading out to follow up on a lead…was wondering if she could stay with you for a couple days.”  
  
“That’s hardly a favor, Jethro, honestly. Any of you are welcome in my home any time. You know that,” Ducky admonishes.  
  
Pinching at the bridge of his nose, Gibbs pockets his reading glasses.  
  
“Whole case has me thrown off. Haven’t really been thinking straight.”  
  
Ducky grips his upper arms, searching his face thoughtfully, “I think it’s more than the case. You haven’t been entirely yourself for quite some time, I’m afraid.”  
  
With a gentle smile, Ducky shoos him out the door and Gibbs heads for Abby’s lab.  
  
When he strides in Tony, Tim and Abby are sitting in front of a table filled with all the statues and pictures they’ve collected so far.  
  
“Why aren’t you gearing up, DiNozzo?”  
  
Tony startles for the second time that morning and then gestures towards the table  
  
“It’s _wrong_ , Gibbs,” Abby supplies.  
  
Gibbs frowns, not quite understanding, “Right, it’s why we have to _catch them_ , Abbs.”  
  
Rolling her eyes, Abby shakes her head, “No, I mean the myths, they’re wrong. Ares was a God of war, not fire. I mean, on those two shows, Hercules and Xena, he shot fire balls out of his hands which was pretty cool but that was a television show, it wasn’t…mythically accurate…”  
  
“Mmm…Xena,” Tony hums, grinning wolfishly.  
  
“Hot babes in skimpy leather armor?” Abby smirks.  
  
“Oh, yeah,” Tony growls, shrugging one shoulder, “Not **historically** accurate _but_ …”  
  
“Who cares?” Abby finishes with a wide smile that gives Gibbs no small amount of relief to see.  
  
“Accuracy wasn’t really Raimi’s strong suit,” McGee chuckles.  
  
“Or consistency, what was up with the third Spiderman movie?” Abby grumbles.  
  
“People!” Gibbs barks.  
  
They all jump and turn to him.  
  
“Focus?” Gibbs says, raising an eyebrow in a way that says they’re all idiots.  
  
“Sorry, Gibbs. So…mythical inaccuracy.”  
  
“That mean anything, Abby?” Gibbs drawls.  
  
Abby fidgets and shrugs, “I don’t know.”  
  
Gibbs rolls his eyes, turning to leave and Abby grabs his arm, yanking him back around.  
  
“But! It might be important. I mean…maybe it narrows the field or something. Maybe you’re looking for somebody without a…good education?” she falters.  
  
“Or maybe it’s somebody who just got their Greek Gods mixed up,” Gibbs points out, tapping a finger to her cheek.  
  
Abby bounces a little, mouth pressed in a firm line, “Probably.”  
  
Sighing heavily, McGee tugs gently on one of Abby’s pigtails, “I think we’re all grasping at straws at this point, Abby.”  
  
“We’ve gotta go, Abbs,” Gibbs says with mild exasperation.  
  
Tony and McGee head for the elevator and Abby trots after them, stopping Gibbs with a touch to his back.  
  
“Be careful, Gibbs.”  
  
Dropping a kiss on her cheek, Gibbs nods.  
  
“Always, Abbs.”  
  
\--  
  
The scene is worse than he’d thought it would be. The fact that any part of the building is still standing is miraculous – no part of the old, brick structure was untouched by the fire, even the ground around it is scorched and black. A stocky man strides forward when they arrive, white hair circling a significant bald spot. His face is stern and his grip is firm when he shakes Gibbs’ hand.  
  
“Name’s Dan Jones. Agents David and McGee filled me in on the details last night so let’s just get to it. Two of your people can go in the building with two of my guys shadowing. It’s unlikely there’s any evidence left. It burned hot enough that there’s a chance there’s not much left of any _one_ either,” at this he sighs and rubs his chin, “I shouldn’t be letting you in there at all but I understand you’re trying to catch a serial arsonist so we’re going to do what we can to help you. You argue with me on anything and I’m giving you the boot. We clear?”  
  
Gibbs takes a deep breath to steady himself and then gives a sharp nod.  
  
“DiNozzo, you and me inside. David, McGee, search the property.”  
  
Jones gestures for Gibbs and Tony to follow him, leading them over to two fire fighters who are already strapped into their gear.  
  
“How do you think the fire was set?” Gibbs asks, gloving up.  
  
“Best we can tell they broke a window in the basement and tossed in some accelerants. Somebody on the first floor said she heard glass breaking and then a few minutes later the fire alarm went off. Even though she was on the first floor, by the time she got to the front entrance the door was already blocked by fire. She made it out the back door, as did about ten other people. Thankfully most folks were still at work or on their way home, so casualties were relatively low.”  
  
They circle the building and he points, “The burn was exceptionally hot here, you can see a trail going out into the yard here, where some of the accelerants must’ve spilled. There’s a gas line in the building, for the water heater and some of the stoves in the individual units - it didn’t take long for that to make a bad situation worse. There was a lot of old insulation on top of that…always makes old buildings go up quicker. One guy jumped from his apartment on the third floor – broke seventeen bones but he survived. Five people are unaccounted for. We’ve got that list of names and apartment numbers, plus a map of the building layout.”  
  
He turns to them then, looking angry, “This is going to be an in and out operation. I don’t want you in this building any longer than you have to be and I don’t want my people in this building at all.”  
  
“We’re…” Gibbs starts to grind out, gearing up for an argument.  
  
“That being said,” Jones interrupts, “I want whoever did this behind bars as much as you do. So I understand that you need to be as thorough as possible and we’ll do what we can for you. But we have to consider everyone’s safety first and foremost. So if one of my guys tells you to move, you move. If they tell you kiss the floor, you kiss the floor. Because it’s going to be your ass they’re saving. Alright?”  
  
Jaw working, Gibbs nods again.  
  
Tony takes pictures of the burns in the grass and the broken window.  
  
“You didn’t find any bodies?” Tony asks.  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
Tony and Gibbs frown at him in confusion and Jones sighs, gesturing towards the building.  
  
“You’ll see when you get in there. There’s not much of anything left. If there are any bodies they’re burned up so bad they’re indistinguishable from anything else. Might have to bring in the cadaver dogs.”  
  
Jones and the firefighters gear them up with masks and protective eyewear, giving them a rundown on how things would operate. Tony raises an eyebrow as the taller firefighter pulls off their mask and reveals a woman underneath.  
  
“My name’s Gina, this big lug is Tayshaun. I’m going ahead to make sure the floor isn’t going to give out on us. We go single file, let’s keep all of our ducks in a row, ok guys?” she grins, revealing a chipped lower tooth, “We’ll get through this in no time.”  
  
She claps Tony on the shoulder, nearly knocking him sideways and he blinks after her until Gibbs nudges him roughly.  
  
“You can ask her out on a date later, DiNozzo. Time to work.”  
  
Tony sputters, “No, I…it’s not…she’s uh…”  
  
Gibbs pushes him again, not responding and Tony shuts his mouth, following her into the building.  
  
\--  
  
Inside the husk of what used to be a building, Tony feels small and just a little scared. He swallows as he carefully follows Gina’s path while simultaneously trying to keep his eyes out for any evidence. They carefully pick their way over ceiling beams, edging around gaping voids where floor used to be. Gibbs wants to go down into the basement but Gina shakes her head.  
  
“The stairs are gone for one and the whole room was decimated after the gas lines caught. The water heater exploded. We can maybe get a ladder in here later but let’s do a sweep upstairs first.”  
  
Gibbs opens his mouth to argue and then snaps it shut again, gesturing for her to lead the way. They go through several rooms and up a floor before they find the first body. Tony picks his way carefully over some debris that’s too scorched to identify and smells something strange – like burnt meat. His stomach churns as he moves through the charred remains of a doorway into a smaller room.  
  
There he finds what’s left of a tub with a body inside – except maybe it’s two bodies on top of each other. He tries not to think about that too hard. He photographs that first and then calls for Gibbs.  
  
Gibbs’ eyes sweep over the scene as he sketches.  
  
“Can Ducky and Palmer get up here?” Tony asks quietly.  
  
“They’re gonna have to. Mark it.”  
  
Tony nods, swallowing down on the slight feeling of nausea – something that he hadn’t felt in some years.  
  
Up close he’s positive it’s two bodies. He focuses on the job, trying not to notice how one of the bodies is smaller, how they must have huddled here, maybe with the shower on, trying to stay alive just long enough for help to come.  
  
The third body they find in a hallway pinned underneath a beam. The fourth is in 4B, Mrs. Johnson. The oxygen tank had obviously exploded, crashing into an opposite wall. Mrs. Johnson is in an awkward position on the floor, at least from what they can tell. Like Jones had said, she was nearly indistinguishable from the charred debris surrounding her.  
  
There is, thankfully, no fifth body. The fifth person who had been unaccounted for was Michelle Washington in 12C who had gone straight to her boyfriend’s house after work yesterday. She calls Mr. Cabbott, who calls Indira, who calls Abby, who calls Gibbs, who tells Tony, who sighs with relief.  
  
Not much relief, but any relief is enough to keep him going.  
  
They process what they can and head back outside, Gibbs pushing for that ladder and some access to the basement. Gina rolls her eyes and nods to Tayshaun.  
  
“Alright, I’m only taking one of you down,” Tayshaun says firmly.  
  
“Me,” Tony says, stepping forward.  
  
“DiNozzo…”  
  
“Ladder,” Tony shoots back, voice low, glancing down at Gibbs’ knees.  
  
Gibbs’ presses his mouth into a firm line, jaw working. He nods once and then turns to find McGee and Ziva.  
  
The basement smells overwhelming, even through the mask. Tony nearly gags and takes a couple of short breaths through his mouth, lifting the camera to take pictures. Water is still dripping down from somewhere and the floor is slightly flooded. They slosh through until Tony finds the window that was broken into, searching for any sign of the bottles they’ve found at their other crime scenes. They’re completely melted, a flat sheet of lumpy, irregularly edged glass that’s stuck to the cement floor. Tony takes pictures and chips away for a sample. After searching for nearly an hour for something, _anything_ else, Tony finally calls it quits. Between the fire and the firemen – firepeople, he mentally amends – there just wasn’t anything to find. Whatever evidence there was has been destroyed.  
  
As he comes back out he sees Ducky and Palmer carting a body down to the truck. He tries not to think about which body and looks around for Gibbs, frowning when he realizes he doesn’t see any of the rest of his team.  
  
He circles the building and sees them near a shed set back on the property and untouched by the fire. Gibbs points at something as Ziva nods, sketching while McGee writes down some notes.  
  
“What’s…” Tony’s voice gets caught in his throat as he jogs over.  
  
On the side of the shed there are several pictures in frames - at the base a handful of statues. It vaguely resembles a shrine of some kind, surrounded by plants and rocks, everything laid out with an eye for aesthetic. It would be interesting, attractive even, if it wasn’t so completely wrong and creepy and fucked up. Tony wants to smash it. To burn it and destroy it, to stop this stupid game before any more lives are lost.  
  
He settles for taking photos and muttering unflattering things under his breath until Gibbs slaps the back of his head.  
  
\--  
  
On the way back to headquarters Ziva pulls out her phone.  
  
“Ken,” she tries to say, name drawn out on a long yawn, “informed me that people begin arriving for Fire in Cairo on Thursday. There are unofficial activities between then and Saturday morning when the event properly gets underway.”  
  
“So, be ready to leave Wednesday,” Gibbs grunts.  
  
“I have arranged for us to stay in a cabin on the festival grounds,” Ziva continues, “The event organizers are quite eager to help. One of them was in the Marines, apparently.”  
  
Gibbs makes a noncommittal noise and Tony shifts.  
  
“Are we trying to blend in or are we trying to stand out, Boss?”  
  
For a moment Gibbs is silent, twisting his grip on the steering wheel.  
  
“We stand out. See if we can’t provoke whoever this is into doing something stupid.”  
  
\--  
  
The framed pictures were different this time. Last time they’d been of people, separate and random. This time it was four sets of lovers: two of them men and women, one of them two women, and one of them two men. They ponder over that for a while until Gibbs snaps at Ziva and Tony begs for a lunch break. Not that it’s a real break – just Tony running to the little Thai place around the corner and running back (literally) with food for everyone to pretend to eat while they actually keep working.  
  
Abby pops up at one point to see who they found. They tell her where they found them without getting into too many details.  
  
The two bodies in the tub, she tells them, were probably Nadia and her little boy Nick. The body in the hallway Ducky has informed them was male and therefore had to be Steve. She starts to cry then and Gibbs asks her how Michelle Washington is doing but Abby can’t stop crying long enough to form a response. He nods at McGee who takes Abby back downstairs, arm around her shoulder as she wraps her arms tightly around his middle.  
  
The statues weren’t Gods this time but salamanders, fire spirits, dragons…all from Evening Star.  
  
Gibbs pushes them hard, late into the night, but even he has to concede they don’t have anything more today than they did the day before. The evidence points to nothing, to no one. They’re spinning their wheels and it’s costing people their lives.  
  
\--  
  
The problem, Abby tells them on the ride home, is that nothing is consistent.  
  
“It’s like…they’re not sure what they’re trying to say,” she ponders, “Maybe Ares isn’t a mistake. Maybe the statues all represent people. But then what about the pictures? And the dragons and….”  
  
“Abby,” Gibbs says firmly, head throbbing faintly from too much caffeine and not enough food.  
  
“Sorry, Gibbs,” she sighs, “I just wish any of this made sense. I’ve looked at it every way possible and there’s no pattern to it.”  
  
“I know,” he nods, pressing the heel of his hand to his temple to try and alleviate the worst of the pressure.  
  
Tony is quiet in the backseat, staring at the streetlights painting stripes on his legs and his hand in his lap. Gibbs glances back at him in the rearview and Tony’s eyes flick up, meeting his. Tony gives him a small smile and Gibbs turns his attention back to the road.  
  
Without any conversation, Gibbs can hear the low murmur of the car radio.  
  
“ _…a heat advisory is in effect. Stay hydrated and, whenever possible, stay inside_.”  
  
\--  
  
Wednesday comes too soon and not nearly soon enough. Abby gives them all anxious kisses as they head out and only Ziva looks as if she’d rather have not gotten one.  
  
The cabin is somewhat cramped – two bunk beds in one small bedroom and a tiny living area that functions as both kitchen, dining room and living room. It’s enough space for four people who have no intention of spending any actual time there.  
  
Thursday passes without incident, then Friday. They’re growing antsy, impatient, ready for something to happen – they wander the grounds, watching vendors setting up their displays, performers practicing their acts, attendees setting up tents and campsites but no one stands out or looks familiar. There’s a slow build of excitement from people oblivious to the danger they’re potentially in.  
  
Then Saturday comes and the event kicks into gear. Gibbs and the team are the only people not wearing some kind of costume or outrageous outfit. They stick out like sore thumbs, muted palette in a crowd dressed in all the colours of wildfire.  
  
That night the path is lined with tiki torches as they walk on to the festival ground. Over the tree line there’s a flickering orange glow, like a small forest fire.  
  
“I still think we should be trying to blend in,” Ziva says for the fifteenth time.  
  
“I don’t think it matters, Ziva,” Tony says snappishly as he peers past Gibbs at the crowd.  
  
“David, DiNozzo, you two stick close to the exit. McGee, with me.”  
  
Gibbs checks his weapon and strides towards the festival entrance, not checking to see if they’re following. His people are quiet as they trail him and he knows that if Abby and Ducky have noticed the way he’s been off lately then the rest of the team have noticed it too. Gibbs puts that aside for now and starts scanning the crowds.  
  
“McGee.”  
  
“Yeah, Boss?”  
  
“Look for familiar faces.”  
  
He glances at McGee every now and again, watching him for signs of recognition. He’s so focused on whether McGee recognizes someone that his own eyes barely focus on the crowd at all – quick glances, and split-second once overs.  
  
But then he sees a flash of red hair and, as always, his eyes follow; this time though the face is vaguely familiar to him. It’s too dark where she’s standing, there are too many people milling around. Eyes fixed, he starts to move in her direction. He feels a hand at his back, grabbing a fistful of his jacket and yanking him back. He gives a startled shout as he’s pulled off balance and a ball of fire flies in front of his face.  
  
Mentally Gibbs curses himself. Her eyes are fixed on them now and she begins to move off into the chaos of the festival. Gibbs dodges around the fire jugglers with McGee muttering concern at his elbow. She ducks into a tent and Gibbs breaks out into a run, knocking over someone in a fairy costume but not slowing down for a second. He nearly slams face first into a man as he enters the tent, side-stepping around him neatly as his eyes scan the space, landing on the only other occupant within seconds.  
  
“Where’d she go?” he demands.  
  
“Who?” The old woman blinks.  
  
“Red haired woman, this tall,” he snaps, raising his hand to his chin, “pretty, slender, Caucasian.”  
  
“Oh, she ducked under the back flap,” the woman gestures, going back to her weaving.  
  
Gibbs lifts the flap for McGee and then slides underneath himself, but when they look around she’s nowhere to be seen. Gibbs calls Tony, describing her in as much detail as he can recall as he dodges around tents and festival goers. They search the whole place, high and low, until McGee stops following and Gibbs turns sharply, ready to rage.  
  
“We’re not going to find her this way, Boss,” McGee says with resignation.  
  
Slamming his fist into a tree, Gibbs lets out a growl of frustration.  
  
“So, what’s her name?”  
  
Gibbs shakes his head, “I can’t remember. I just know I know her.”  
  
Sighing, McGee starts walking back towards the entrance, “Ok. So…we sit you down with a sketch artist and we get her face out there. We’ll let the event organizers know who we’re looking for, question other festival goers…somebody has to know her, right?”  
  
Gibbs gives a sharp nod, keeping his eyes on the crowd. He hates being this close and still so far.  
  
But he’s seen her face now – like a hound with a scent, he won’t rest until he finds her.  
  
\--  
  
The sketch artist comes courtesy of the local PD and Gibbs does his best to describe her, face still not completely clear in his memory.  
  
God, where did he know her from? Ex-girlfriend? With that red hair, more than likely.  
  
It’s then, feeling like the answer is there just waiting for him to grab it, that he gets a text message.  
  
An address.  
  
For long, precious seconds he only stares at it. Then he finds himself on his feet, startling the sketch artist as he grabs his jacket.  
  
“McGee!” he barks but receives no reply, “ _McGee_!”  
  
McGee comes careening out of the bedroom, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, Tony and Ziva hot on his heels.  
  
“Yeah, Boss?”  
  
Gibbs tosses his phone in McGee’s general direction. McGee catches it, blinking with surprise before looking at the message. He taps the screen and then a look of fury comes over his features.  
  
“God _damnit_ ,” McGee growls.  
  
“What?” Gibbs snaps.  
  
“It’s from the anonymail address. They must have SMS…”  
  
“So, you can’t track it?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Gibbs snatches his phone back, “So get dressed and _move it_.”  
  
He doesn’t even have to give them a second glance – they’re rushing to put themselves back together, grabbing their weapons and running to follow Gibbs to the car.  
  
“Um…” the sketch artist shifts, pad and pencil still in hand, “I guess I’ll just wait here then.”  
  
\--  
  
The building is old and at first glance looks abandoned. As they walk up they can see it’s more than just abandoned – it’s condemned. The chain and padlock are dangling from one handle, door slightly ajar as they walk up the steps, drawing their weapons. Gibbs motions for Ziva and Tony to go around back, then nods to McGee who simply squares his shoulders and nods in return.  
  
They enter quietly, eyeing the space, watching for any movement, listening for any noise. But by the time they smell the smell, it’s too late. Gibbs staggers, leaning heavily against the wall as McGee drops to his knees hard.  
  
Then everything goes black.


	7. Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The whole world is up in flames.
> 
> That's his first thought as he blinks awake, smoke smothering him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: AU, slight angst, dead bodies. Language. The author is EVIL.  
> Author's Notes: Dark Elements is a five chapter series with multiple parts in each chapter. If the title of the series wasn't a good hint, this will be a very dark series of fic. I will post warnings but don't get too invested if you aren't ready to read about murder, non-con and torture. Unbeta-ed.

The whole world is up in flames.

That's his first thought as he blinks awake, smoke smothering him. He's tied to a chair, wrists bound viciously behind his back and someone is yelling his name hoarsely over the roar of the fire. For a moment Gibbs is disoriented, trying to will himself awake and then a nauseating fear worms its way into his gut.

  
"Gibbs!"  
  
He snaps to, head whipping around to glance at Tony tied up behind him.  
  
McGee is wiggling away from the encroaching fire in front of him, eyes wide with fear and Ziva is wrenching away from the pillar she's tied to. She finally yanks her arms free, flash of a knife in her hand and Gibbs chokes back the breath of relief.  
  
A support beams crashes down, jarring the floor beneath their feet and Ziva's struggles become more frantic, her eyes fixed behind Gibbs.  
  
"DiNozzo!" he calls, but there's no response.  
  
She rushes to Tony first and Gibbs' turns his eyes to McGee who's watching Ziva so intently that he's forgotten the fire at his own side.  
  
"Watch your back, McGee!" Gibbs barks. McGee startles so hard it looks like it hurt and then worms away from the blaze as best he can.  
  
Then there are hands tugging at his own bonds and Ziva comes into sight, stumbling over to McGee.  
  
"Hey, Boss," Tony coughs weakly, an ash smudge and a smear of blood at his temple from a piece of splintered beam.  
  
This time it’s not a dream. Gibbs stands and surveys their surroundings, searching for a way out. The doorway is blocked by debris which leaves only a window.  
  
“Let’s go, people!” he orders, picking his way over burning bits of ceiling and beams that have collapsed.  
  
The window pries open easily enough but the fire escape looks rickety and insecure.  
  
“Alright, David, you first.”  
  
“Gibbs…” she starts to argue.  
  
“Move!” he shouts, hauling her forward, “Be careful, it doesn’t look very sturdy.”  
  
The fire edges closer to them, and as soon as he sees she’s about halfway down he grabs McGee’s arm.  
  
“Boss…”  
  
“So help me God, McGee, if you don’t get the hell out onto that fire escape I am going to throw you out of this window,” Tony growls, helping Gibbs manhandle McGee towards safety.  
  
Gibbs looks to Tony but before either of them can open their mouths to argue about who’s next a wall crumbles and then a good portion of the ceiling, sending debris and smoke everywhere. Tony scrambles out of the window, dragging Gibbs with him, grip vice-like on Gibbs’ bicep. The fire escape creaks and groans, giving a final shriek of protest as the bolts holding it to the old brick give way. Ziva and McGee shout in fear, running out of the way as the metal collapses to the ground, sending pieces of rusty shrapnel everywhere. When they look up they see Tony and Gibbs hanging from a balcony that’s missing its railing on the neighboring building, legs swinging in the air as they struggle to maintain their hold. Below them is a jagged wreck of sharp metal.  
  
McGee and Ziva look around frantically for any way to get them down safely but there’s nothing in immediate sight. When Tony glances to the side he sees Gibbs losing his grip.  
  
“Hold on,” he begs, “Please hold on.”  
  
Gibbs locks eyes with him and nods. Somehow he manages to regain his hold and then he feels slender fingers around his own.  
  
“Frank!” the woman yells, voice frantic as she struggles to help Gibbs up onto the balcony.  
  
A large man, hair a shock of white against his dark skin, exits the apartment in his boxers, rubbing at the grit in his eyes. He peers over the side and raises an eyebrow. With one, big hand he reaches down, grabs Tony’s wrist and hauls him up with ease. As soon as he’s got him over the edge Frank reaches over to grab Gibbs. Once both of them have their feet on the floor, he guides them, gently but firmly, to the door.  
  
“Open it,” he says to Gibbs, tone brokering no argument.  
  
Gibbs does, coughing from all the smoke.  
  
Frank takes them out into the hall.  
  
“Sorry about your place,” he says, turns back to his apartment and shuts the door.  
  
“Thanks!” Tony calls out, voice hoarse.  
  
“You’re welcome!”comes back through the door.  
  
Gibbs stares at the door of apartment 352 for a minute, then looks to Tony. As if he can’t help it, he starts laughing, turning to find the nearest elevator or set of stairs to take them out of here.  
  
“Um…are you ok?” Tony frowns, reaching out to grip Gibbs’ shoulder.  
  
“Probably not,” Gibbs shakes his head, locating the elevator and punching the button for the first floor.  
  
McGee and Ziva run to them as soon as they exit the building, the wail of sirens letting Gibbs know that someone already called 911.  
  
“We’re fine,” he coughs, waving them off.  
  
“You don’t sound fine,” Ziva scowls, her own voice a little hoarse.  
  
“Smoke inhalation,” he shrugs.  
  
Then he hears Tony coughing and a small stab of fear in his gut makes him change his mind about how ‘fine’ they are.  
  
“We’ll get checked out as soon as the ambulance gets here,” he amends.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye he thinks he sees Tony smirk just a little and thinks he may have just gotten played.  
  
They end up sitting in an ambulance wearing oxygen masks and trying to argue their way out of a visit to the hospital. Gibbs thinks it might serve Tony right to get stuck in the ER for twelve hours or so but, then again, Gibbs needs his Senior Agent right now.  
  
“We’ve gotta get back to that sketch artist.”  
  
“The scene…” Tony gestures.  
  
“You really think we’re gonna find anything in there?” Gibbs points.  
  
The building is threatening to take the two neighbouring buildings with it and they pause, watching in subdued silence as even more lives are threatened and thrown into upheaval.  
  
“So who is she?” Tony asks, brushing at the ash on his slacks.  
  
Gibbs wracks his brain, scowling at his feet.  
  
“Shit…” be breathes as it comes to him.  
  
His eyes fly up to Tony who’s watching him with a mixture of concern and curiosity.  
  
It had been a while ago now, years. He couldn’t remember her name; it had been a series of one night stands. They’d meet at the bar and end up at his place. He never asked for her number, she always tried to give it to him. He’d been hurting then, it was right after…right after Mexico and the whole fiasco with The Frog. Tony had come over one night, Gibbs saw him on the porch just as she was pulling her car in behind his. He saw Tony, looking apologetic and broken hearted and without even thinking Gibbs had turned and told her to beat it. He’d told her that he didn’t want anything more than sex and he wasn’t interested in a relationship. He didn’t want her number. He didn’t even want to know her name.  
  
He’d felt like a heel for it later but it had gotten her gone, fast. It had done the job.  
  
Then he’d walked the stone path up to the steps and the steps up to Tony. Tony, who for the first time since they’d known each other, he hugged – instead of the other way around. Then he’d brought Tony inside and he listened while Tony fumbled over words until somehow they’d both apologized to each other without ever really saying “sorry”.  
  
“Aimee,” he says, name coming on him like a lightning strike.  
  
“What?”  
  
Something occurs to him then and Gibbs tries to call out for McGee, ending up in a coughing fit for his effort, before fumbling for his phone, hitting the number he needs on speed dial.  
  
 _“McGee.”_  
  
“You know anyone named Aimee? A-I-M-E-E.”  
  
There’s a brief silence on the other end and then McGee coughs a little, obviously pausing to take a drink of water.  
  
 _“Um…yeah. Well, I mean, I know **one**.”_  
  
“Describe her.”  
  
 _“I don’t know what she looks like, Gibbs. We chatted on-line and we knew each other’s names but we never ended up meeting in person. She was kind of…clingy.”_  
  
“You remember her last name?”  
  
 _“Yeah, Feuer. Aimee Feuer.”_  
  
“Find her. I need a picture.”  
  
With that Gibbs hangs up and looks to Tony who’s staring at him intently.  
  
“It’s somebody _you_ and McGee have in common?” Tony balks, chuckling in disbelief.  
  
“Yeah,” Gibbs shrugs, one corner of his mouth quirking up, feeling just as confused by that as Tony probably is.  
  
“I didn’t think you had the same taste in women.”  
  
“Me neither.”  
  
They lean back, staring off at the floor, the medical equipment, even the disaster unfolding outside...anything but each other.  
  
\--  
  
Within an hour McGee has everything they need. Aimee’s credit card was used at a gas station a mile down the road, her plates are read at a toll two miles away from there and before mid-afternoon a local highway patrol has pulled her over and taken her into custody.  
  
Some part of him feels like it shouldn’t just be over so suddenly. As if there should have been some grand chase, a hunt, something worthy of this game that’s been dragging endlessly on.  
  
He mentally shakes it off, suddenly remembering that there’s still a sketch artist waiting for him. He calls the local PD, updating them on the situation and thanking them for their time, managing to sound genuine if only by virtue of being too tired to sound like a bastard.  
  
Sitting in observation, Gibbs stares at her, thinking that it’s possible he doesn’t even have the energy to go in there and ask her why. He’s not even sure how much he wants to know, at this point. The answer isn’t going to make him happy, or re-erect any buildings, or bring back any of the dead. The answer, more than likely, is going to make him angry beyond reason. The answer will probably cause him to drink himself stupid later.  
  
But he does want to ask her one question. And if the first one has to be ‘why’ then that’s how he gets where he needs to go.  
  
\--  
  
With that thought, Gibbs steels himself and decides on his tactic. When he walks into observation he sits down without saying a word, staring at her as she fidgets with the hem of her jacket. Her gaze flicks up to him and then back down.  
  
“Jethro,” she says softly.  
  
“Aimee,” he nods.  
  
Then silence again. They sit like that for a good twenty minutes until she finally can’t take the quiet any longer.  
  
“I’m not really sure what to say.”  
  
“You can start with the first fire and work your way to now,” he suggests, tone calm and even.  
  
She nods but then her demeanor seems to shift a little.  
  
“It’s been a long time,” she shifts, “how’ve you been?”  
  
“Start with the first fire,” Gibbs repeats, still calm but with a hint of danger that makes her eyes go briefly wide.  
  
A knock on the window makes him scowl and rise.  
  
“Think very carefully about what you want to say to me next.”  
  
With that he exits the room and enters observation.  
  
“Gibbs!” Abby bounces, “I matched her to everything! Well, except the pictures, but the statues! I confirmed that she purchased all those statues from the stuff Evening Star sent and that she’d signed up for their mailing list. One of the employees, Robbie, said he’s talked to her a bunch of times and he can remember selling her at least four of the statues we found!”  
  
Nodding, Gibbs gives her a kiss on the cheek, “Good job, Abbs.”  
  
“Um…” Tony steps forward, “the accelerants, Abby?”  
  
“Oh! Right, we found traces of accelerants in her car. I’m running them now.”  
  
“Anything else?”  
  
Abby thinks for a moment, ticking off on her fingers and then shakes her head, pigtails flying. Gibbs shrugs his eyebrows and turns back towards interrogation.  
  
Aimee is sitting right where he left her, chewing on her thumbnail.  
  
“We found traces of accelerants in your car,” he says succinctly, “and we confirmed that you purchased those statues.”  
  
She looks up at him with wide eyes.  
  
It’s then he realizes that she’d never thought she’d get caught.  
  
“So start with the first fire,” he repeats one last time.  
  
Nodding, she begins giving him a general rundown. It’s nothing he couldn’t have guessed at. She downloaded programs, she covered her tracks, she paid cash. He needs the details though. He leans forward, trying to keep the menacing look on his face from being too terrifying as he gets to his feet. He looks at the glass and from the other side, Tony exits the observation room.  
  
“Where are you going?” Ziva questions, arms folded across her chest.  
  
“Gibbs wants to do good cop, bad cop,” Tony pauses, “Or bad cop, bad cop.”  
  
He grins wildly, “Let’s find out.”  
  
When Tony walks in Aimee looks a little nervous.  
  
“Hi, Aimee,” Tony smiles, “I’m Special Agent Tony DiNozzo.”  
  
“…hello,” she says hesitantly.  
  
“But, you know who I am, don’t you?”  
  
Swallowing, she nods.  
  
“Your apartment was the first one I…the first one I set on fire.”  
  
“I gotta say thank you for that,” Tony chuckles, sitting down across from her, still covered in ash, bandage at his temple, “That place has been needing some major renovations for _years_ now and our landlord is just a stingy bastard.”  
  
She watches him warily, not responding.  
  
“So we’re meeting for the first time,” Tony continues on, “Why did you set my place on fire?”  
  
Licking her lips she glances up at Gibbs, “To get at Jethro.”  
  
“Was he a bastard to you? He’s a bastard to everyone, you shouldn’t take it personally.”  
  
She doesn’t say anything to that, so Tony switches tactics.  
  
“How did you think hurting me would get at him?” Tony prods, crossing his legs and leaning back in the chair.  
  
“…I saw how he was with you. I could see how he felt about you.”  
  
Tony glances at where Gibbs is standing in the corner quietly watching.  
  
“And how does he feel about me?”  
  
This seems to intrigue her and she looks at him fully for the first time.  
  
“You don’t know?”  
  
“Not a clue,” Tony smiles easily.  
  
She leans forward, eyes sweeping over him with barely disguised hunger.  
  
“How does a dog feel about a bitch in heat?”  
  
Tony opens his mouth and then shuts it again, surprise making him mute. Gibbs chuckles and shakes his head.  
  
“How long were you watching me?”  
  
“Weeks,” she says, tone cocky and a little dangerous, “months.”  
  
Gibbs doesn’t move, “Well, you knew where I lived.”  
  
“Yeah,” she nods, “where you slept – the same bed you’d fucked me in a dozen times.”  
  
“You wanted more,” Gibbs rumbles, voice just shy of seductive.  
  
“You wanted him,” she shoots back.  
  
“That bother you, Aimee? The idea of a man wanting another man?”  
  
He sits down next to Tony then, just a little closer than he normally would, scooting the chair over an extra few inches. Tony plays along, adjusting his body language to mirror Gibbs’, leaning in.  
  
“Not at all,” she smiles coolly.  
  
“So was that what the statues and the posters were all about?” he smirks, dropping his arm down on the back of Tony’s chair, watching her eyes follow the movement with barely concealed anger, “Was that what they meant?”  
  
She blinks at that, a laugh bubbling out from her chest.  
  
“You’re so stupid,” Aimee scoffs.  
  
“What?” Gibbs growls.  
  
“They didn’t mean _anything_ ,” she giggles, “I just did that to fuck with you. The statues, random. The pictures, I just grabbed whatever looked good. The poem was just from an internet search for ‘fire poetry’. They weren’t… _clues._ ”  
  
“Well, Aimee,” Tony grins, chuckling as he leans forward, “you got caught, and those random statues and pictures are going to help put you in jail. So who’s stupid now?”  
  
Her expression turns sour and she looks away.  
  
“I still don’t really get why?” Tony pushes, “Why any of this, Aimee?”  
  
Gibbs somehow manages to maintain eye contact with her when she looks up at him.  
  
“There was nothing wrong with me. I just…I don’t understand why they didn’t want me.”  
  
“Maybe because you’re psychotic?”  
  
“Screw you!” she spits out.  
  
Gibbs nudges Tony under the table and Tony changes tactics.  
  
“Sorry, Aimee. That was rude.”  
  
“I want…”  
  
“A glass of water? Sandwich? How about I send in my associate, Agent David. Me and Gibbs will get you something to eat.”  
  
Tony smiles brilliantly and all but drags Gibbs out of the room, shutting the door quickly.  
  
“What was that about?” Ziva asks as she exits observation.  
  
“She was about to lawyer up,” Gibbs says, eying Tony with approval.  
  
Tony shrugs, “And she doesn’t seem too happy with men right now. So you might want to play up the ‘all men are jerks’ angle, Ziva.”  
  
“That shouldn’t be too difficult,” Ziva smirks, looking them both over critically.  
  
\--  
  
“Hello, Ms. Feuer. I’m Agent Ziva David.”  
  
Aimee nods in greeting and Ziva sits opposite her, rubbing the back of her neck.  
  
“Sorry about Tony. He’s an idiot.”  
  
“He’s rude,” Aimee bites out.  
  
Ziva only just barely keeps herself from pointing out that murdering people and burning down their homes was a great deal worse than ‘rude’ but just smiles instead.  
  
“He’s insufferable to work with, especially since it is obvious that he is Gibbs’ favourite.”  
  
Leaning forward, Aimee unfolds her arms, “So you noticed too?”  
  
“Of course, you would have to be blind not to see it. The way Gibbs touches him, the way Gibbs looks at him, the way they’re always together.”  
  
“I can’t _believe_ ,” Aimee practically spits, “that Jethro is letting that… _whore_ stay with him.”  
  
“I know,” Ziva lowers her voice conspiratorially, “it’s not the first time either.”  
  
“ _God_ ,” Aimee looks furious, “he sleeps around. I looked up some of his friends, you know, on-line? He’s had so many girlfriends. I was IMing one of his frat brothers and I said I knew him, right? And I was kind of hoping to date him. The guy tells me that he’s had like…a million girlfriends and then he tells me he’s had _boyfriends_ too.”  
  
“Are you sure he wasn’t just jealous?” Ziva blinks, genuinely surprised by that, “Perhaps he was just trying to keep you to himself.”  
  
“Oh, no, the guy is married, you know? Just lonely but he doesn’t have the guts to cheat.”  
  
“It’s really impressive how much you found out,” Ziva shakes her head, “I still can’t figure out what happened in that building in New York. One moment I was walking in the back door and the next I am tied to a pillar.”  
  
Ziva leans back, plastering an impressed look on her face. Aimee practically bounces in her seat.  
  
“I used to work at this dentist office and I um… _convinced_ …the hygienist to slip me tanks of the gas they use to knock people out. It took me a while to get enough, you know, but it was so worth it to watch you guys drop like that.”  
  
“Yes, apparently I hit the ground rather hard,” Ziva winces, rubbing at the bump on her head.  
  
“Oh, God, sorry,” Aimee grimaces, “I didn’t want to kill you guys, I was just buying myself some time to, you know, get away. I left you with your weapons. You noticed that, right?”  
  
“I did. Thank you for undoing the clasp on my knife sheath, it made escaping much easier.”  
  
“Oh, you’re welcome,” she shrugs, “And I’m sorry you got mixed up in this. I could tell, when I saw you, that you would understand. I mean, you have to work with them, how could you not understand?”  
  
“There’s only one other thing I’m curious about,” Ziva bites her lip, feigning confusion, “Why did you burn down Abby’s apartment?”  
  
A dark look steals over Aimee’s face, “At first, when I started talking to Tim, he was so sweet. But then he started talking about _her_. Like, she’s the one that got away, she’s little Ms. _Perfect_. He doesn’t see that she’s a freak. You see the way she dresses.”  
  
She takes a deep breath but it doesn’t seem to do much for the anger bubbling up inside her, the malice on her face plain, “I used way more of my fire cocktail than I had before. I wanted that whole stupid building to burn to the ground with all of her freak shit inside. You know she sleeps in a coffin? Who _does_ that?”  
  
Ziva smirks, nodding in agreement because she can’t bring herself to speak any words against Abby.  
  
Besides, Aimee is doing just fine hanging herself out to dry.  
  
\--  
  
They sit down in observation, Gibbs turning off the sound as he leans back in his chair, only half-watching Ziva prod more details out of Aimee. He needs a minute to regroup.  
  
“Well, at least that explains why we couldn’t make any sense out of her ‘clues’,” Tony scoffs with mild disgust, “They didn’t mean a damn thing to begin with.”  
  
Gibbs grunts in response, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. After she seems to calm down a little, Tony goes to get her a sandwich and a bottle of water.  
  
“I’m going in alone,” Gibbs says when he returns, snatching the food out of Tony’s hand.  
  
He ignores the look Tony gives him. There aren’t many more details he needs and there’s really only one question he wants to ask. He sets the sandwich and the drink down, watching her pick at them for a moment. Folding his arms, Gibbs’ eyes search her features as he mulls over the words he wants to say in his mind.  
  
“Ana,” he drawls out, “why Ana?”  
  
Aimee glances up at him, then shrugs, “I found her name in a news article.”  
  
“Could’ve been anybody, then? Just happened to be the first name you came across?”  
  
“…she’s touching your arm in the photo. Looking at you like…she _wanted_ you.”  
  
“Why did you kill her husband?”  
  
Aimee leans back, brow furrowed and jaw working as she stares at her hands in her lap.  
  
“I didn’t mean to kill that guy, he startled me and I just…hit him. Then I panicked and I just kept hitting him until…” she shakes her head, “I didn’t mean to kill him.”  
  
Gibbs stands up.  
  
“Jethro…”  
  
There’s a sick feeling in Gibbs’ stomach and he stalks out of the room, not really sure where his feet are taking him until he feels a hand on his shoulder steering him into an empty observation room down the hall. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t need to see to know it’s Tony.  
  
“Gibbs?”  
  
He shakes his head. He wants to say “what the fuck is wrong with people?”. He wants to scream at the top of his lungs, to go back in that room and just empty a clip into her head, maybe fire off a few into his own brainpan when he’s done.  
  
Ana’s husband would be alive if he’d just gone to a therapist instead of trying to fuck his problems and pain away. He wants to ask Tony “what the fuck is wrong with me?” and “why do I keep messing everything up?” and “why does everything I touch turn to shit?”. Tony is silent at his back, close but not touching and Gibbs wants nothing more than to lean back into his heat, the only welcome heat he’s felt in weeks. He wants to be comforted and in the same moment doesn’t feel he deserves it.  
  
Shaking his head again, Gibbs sucks in a deep breath and swallows it all down.  
  
“I just needed a minute,” he manages.  
  
Tony presses closer, carefully bringing a hand to Gibbs’ shoulder. Without being entirely conscious of it, Gibbs settles back against him and the ball of tumultuous emotions in his stomach dissipates just as quickly as it formed.  
  
“We got her, Boss,” Tony says softly.  
  
“I noticed,” Gibbs snaps, unable to stop the slight snarl in his tone.  
  
“…this wasn’t your fault, you know. You couldn’t…”  
  
“Shut up,” Gibbs growls out quickly, glancing back without making eye contact.  
  
Tony nods and brings up his other hand, squeezing Gibbs’ shoulders. It’s almost a hug but not quite. Gibbs licks his lips and swallows, trying to get a handle on himself. They have to finish, they have to wrap up this case so he can focus on other things – anything but these things, these feelings, these thoughts.  
  
“You think you’re ok to go back in there?” Tony asks, tone confident but still soft.  
  
“Yeah,” Gibbs nods.  
  
“Ok,” Tony says, backing away.  
  
Gibbs feels a little calmer, a little less chaotic. He rolls his shoulders and strides back out into the hall, seeing McGee with a stack of papers in his hand.  
  
“McGee!”  
  
Tim startles and turns, nearly fumbling the papers all over the floor.  
  
“Yeah, Boss?”  
  
“Get in there, ask her why she came after you.”  
  
“Uh…” McGee bites his lip, handing the papers to Ziva.  
  
He doesn’t move, though, and Gibbs doesn’t stop until he’s invading the other man’s space, raising his eyebrow.  
  
“I’m not sure I should,” McGee manages after a moment, face stormy.  
  
“Why not, McGee?” Gibbs drawls out, tone a little dangerous.  
  
“My mother told me never to hit a girl.”  
  
Huffing out a soft laugh, Gibbs nods, “Well, I’m telling you that we need answers. Can you do your job or not?”  
  
McGee looks him in the eye, anger barely concealed, and gives a sharp nod, sliding past Gibbs and into interrogation.  
  
“Sure that’s a good idea?” Tony questions lowly once Ziva slides back into observation.  
  
“No,” Gibbs turns slightly, meeting Tony’s gaze solidly, “but she’s probably safer with him than me.”  
  
“Wouldn’t be so sure if I was you, Gibbs.”  
  
“Why’s that, DiNozzo?”  
  
“Because he doesn’t call you up at two in the morning and tell you about his feelings,” Tony grins.  
  
“He calls you at two in the morning?”  
  
“Not as often as he calls Abby,” Tony admits with a shrug, “but then again he doesn’t like telling Abby about the dreams where he’s killing people.”  
  
Gibbs watches Tony as the other man strides past him. Shaking his head, he follows and immediately notices the set of McGee’s shoulders in the other room.  
  
He’s put distance between Aimee and himself, which Gibbs thinks is probably smart for a number of reasons.  
  
“He hasn’t said anything yet,” Ziva informs them.  
  
They watch as the silence drags on for a few more minutes. Gibbs can see Aimee aching to reach out but McGee is practically vibrating with anger.  
  
“Hi, Tim,” she says softly, “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”  
  
“Wish I could say the same, Aimee,” McGee snaps back.  
  
“…I know you’re upset with me.”  
  
“You burned down my friend’s apartment building and killed four of the people who lived there…left fifty other people homeless. You did serious damage to my other friend’s apartment building, thank God you didn’t kill anybody there but you almost did. And then you halfway burned down another friend’s house. ‘ _Upset_ ’ isn’t the word.”  
  
“I know,” she agrees quietly.  
  
“So why me?” McGee sits down, hands in fists on the table.  
  
“I looked you up, you know? I had Jethro’s address and that gave me his full name. I Google searched him and that gave me newspaper articles and stuff. I saw your name and I thought you were cute, so I looked you up. You’re on-line so it’s not hard to figure out who your friends are. I followed Jethro sometimes. I mean, it took me a while to get all the information I needed, all the materials. Paying cash at conventions made it easy to avoid being traced on my purchases. Old beer bottles from recycling bins can’t be traced to me,” she quirks her head to the side, biting her lip, “My little fire cocktail is kind of unique to me but outside of this I’ve never set fires before. I can’t believe you actually figured it out.”  
  
McGee shakes his head, “You signed up for an e-mail list, Aimee. And you bought your statues from the same company every time. You…you’re a pretty lady, people remember you.”  
  
Aimee’s gaze drops to the table for a moment and when she looks back up at McGee there’s a shy look on her face. She smiles coyly, peering up through her lashes.  
  
“You think I’m pretty, Tim?”  
  
McGee blinks, looking surprised.  
  
“God,” Tony breathes from the other side of the observation glass, “How desperate can you be?”  
  
Gibbs knocks on the glass. He’s heard enough and they’ve got what they need. Let the lawyers sort out the rest.  
  
\--  
  
Later that night, in the solace of his own home, Gibbs sits back on the couch, sinking into the cushions as the condensation on his beer bottle makes a ring on his jeans.  
  
He can feel Tony looking at him and it scrapes at something raw inside.  
  
“What?” he snaps, tone nastier than he means for it to be.  
  
That seems to scrape at something raw in Tony, because the other man’s face twists into something close to rage.  
  
Tony's furrowed brow and set jaw don't bode well for Gibbs.  
  
“We're friends,” Tony says certainly, “And I don't ask you to tell me what's going on in that fubarred Marine brain of yours because I'd pretty much rather take up DIY dentistry but you...I'm not gonna say you owe me, Gibbs, but I deserve to know what the hell's going on with you. As your friend.”  
  
Gibbs feels his own stubbornness set in on him and he sits there, quietly, purposely giving away nothing.  
  
“You know, fine! Take it to the grave!” Tony rolls his eyes and starts to stalk off. Something about the tone of his voice, or the tenseness in his shoulders tells Gibbs that if he doesn't stop him now it'll be the beginning of the end for their friendship. So if it has to go down, one way or the other, it might as well go down in flames.  
  
Gibbs grabs Tony, who flings up an arm in self defense, but instead of hitting him or pushing him, Gibbs yanks him close and kisses him fiercely, crashing their mouths together so hard he splits Tony's lip. When he lets go he expects a lot of things – for Tony to run off, for Tony to haul off and hit him, for Tony to call him any number of unflattering things – but what Tony does is grab him and kiss him back.  
  
“Well, why didn't you say so?” Tony smirks.  
  
\--  
  
It doesn’t get any farther than some kissing that night. They get a call just before nine that Aimee had started slamming her head into a wall and had to be restrained and eventually sedated.  
  
In the morning Gibbs sits at his desk bitterly wondering if she’ll plead insanity.  
  
But he thinks, if she does, the head shrinkers won’t have any problem proving it’s true.


	8. Ring of Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whatever comes now there’s no stopping it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: AU, slight angst, sex. Language. The author is EVIL.  
> Author's Notes: Dark Elements is a five chapter series with multiple parts in each chapter. If the title of the series wasn't a good hint, this will be a very dark series of fic. I will post warnings but don't get too invested if you aren't ready to read about murder, non-con and torture. Unbeta-ed.

As they walk out of the building that night they see a flash and hear the distant rumble of thunder. A few drops warn of the coming rains and they pick up the pace as they head for the lot where their cars are parked. The storm clouds are dark and heavy, completely black where they’re heaviest with rain, blotting out the sun. The temperature drops and brings goose flesh up on their skin. Before he ducks into the relative safety of his car, Gibbs pauses to glance up at the oncoming storm and a feeling comes up in him that he hasn’t felt in a long time.  
  
Dread.  
  
He swallows it down as he hears the roar of Tony’s car engine coming to life and slides into the driver’s seat.  
  
Whatever comes now there’s no stopping it. Gibbs pulls out and watches the wall of water swallow up Tony’s car, only the red of tail lights visible through the grey deluge. He follows those two lights like a beacon, like he’s steering a ship on the sea towards the lighthouse on the shore. When they pull into his driveway he grips the wheel tight, the rain beating down so hard he can just barely see the house. The lightning strikes are coming fast now, the thunder shaking the car. He frowns as he watches Tony make a dash for the front porch and finds himself, against all better sense, following. As soon as he gets up the last step of the porch Tony grabs him, hauls him through the front door, slams it shut behind them and kisses Gibbs soundly. Lightning strikes down in the front yard, the flash and boom of thunder making them jump, the house rattling with the force of it.  Car alarms sound off, echoes of thunder rumbling. Their lips part for only a second and then crash together again as they rip at each other’s clothes, frantic to undress. They get their belts off, their pants undone and then Gibbs impatiently shoves Tony against the door. He takes Tony in hand, sucking at the hollow of Tony’s throat, sliding a hand up under Tony’s shirt to press between his shoulder blades. He fondles him, teasing the head of his dick, fingers tracing veins and thumb circling the head. Tony fumbles, pulling out his wallet and producing a few packets of lube. Tony rips one open with clumsy fingers and Gibbs pauses to let the other man squeeze it onto his palm. He gives Tony’s dick a few twisting pumps to coat it thoroughly and then starts stroking him fast.  
  
The rain is coming down on the house like a flood, the lightning and thunder not letting up. Tony’s breath is harsh in his ear and Gibbs feels him spiral closer, muscles clenching, pulse quickening, until he sucks in a breath that gets lodged in his throat, moan trapped as his orgasm rips through him. Gibbs kisses his jaw line until Tony turns him around, pulling Gibbs’ body flush against his own. Another loud crack of thunder makes them jump and Tony’s hand tightens fractionally on Gibbs’ hip as he reaches down, pulling Gibbs’ dick from his pants.  
  
He latches onto the spot just behind Gibbs’ ear, one slick hand stroking him and the other pulling at his nipples. Gibbs doesn’t know what to do with his hands and finally reaches back, fisting Tony’s hair with one and gripping Tony’s hip with the other. His pleasure comes in waves, making his fingers clench and release. Tony flicks a finger over the sensitive bundle of nerves just under the head before stroking Gibbs again, alternating, twisting his wrist. He bites and sucks at Gibbs’ neck, teeth dragging over tender flesh as he pinches a nipple. Gibbs’ orgasm comes over him all of a sudden, leaving him unprepared. He doesn’t mean to groan his pleasure out into the empty house, voice echoing around the walls as he sags against Tony for support. He doesn’t mean to let stuttering, half-choked breaths escape his mouth. He doesn’t mean to cling to Tony’s body as his knees shake and go weak.  
  
Tony holds him close, the sound of rain still loud in their ears. The lightning and thunder are fading, storm finally moving on. Gibbs’ eyes fall to the splatter of cum on his wood floor and he tries to pull away, to go get a rag, to escape the too comfortable cage of Tony’s arms. Tony pulls him closer, tilts his head back, kisses him until his thoughts scatter and fade like echoes of thunder. One of Tony’s hands is pressed to his stomach while the other caresses his jaw. When they pull apart Tony just stares at him for a moment, right into his eyes, pinning him in place with his gaze before diving back in and stealing his breath.  
  
“Let’s get cleaned up,” Tony rumbles. It’s the first words either of them has spoken in over an hour and the shock of them almost makes Gibbs startle, as if lightning had struck down once more.  
  
He nods, at once relieved and disappointed to be free of Tony’s embrace. Though he usually likes the quiet of his house it seems too silent after the riot of noise that had filled the space just moments before.  
  
The rain is a soft hush now and Gibbs grips the kitchen sink, hands still wet from rinsing out the rag he’d used to clean the floor. He stands there for too long but some strange anxiety has gripped him by the balls and he can’t seem to break free of it. He flinches away from Tony’s hand on his shoulder.  
  
With a touch so tender it’s painful, Tony pushes at Gibbs’ shoulder until the other man finally turns towards him. His brow is furrowed, eyes questioning as he peers into Gibbs’ face. Gibbs scowls at the counter, unable to face Tony directly.  
  
They could stand there like that all night but Tony’s thumb is stroking over the joint of his shoulder, worry evident in every line of his face and Gibbs can’t stand it any longer.  
  
“Never done that before…” Gibbs trails off, voice hoarse and low.  
  
Tony frowns and then understanding blossoms across his features.  
  
“With a man,” he finishes.  
  
“No. Never,” Gibbs shakes his head.  
  
Blinking, a small grin pulls at the corners of Tony’s mouth, “You did pretty good for a virgin, Gibbs.”  
  
“Fuck you,” Gibbs snaps back, tone annoyed but without heat or anger.  
  
He gives Tony credit for not asking if he’s ok. Tony just ducks his head down and kisses him, wrapping his arms around Gibbs’ neck.  
  
After a moment he pulls back, kissing Gibbs’ cheek and then backing off completely.  
  
“After you’re done having your big, gay freak out,” Tony smirks, “I’ll be upstairs in your bed.”  
  
With that Tony turns and walks out of the kitchen, pausing in the doorway.  
  
“Naked.”  
  
For a few minutes Gibbs wars with himself.  
  
He should kick Tony out. He shouldn’t have ever kissed him in the first place but now that they’re here, in this place, he can’t seem to reason with himself. All sense has gone out the window and Gibbs worries his lower lip as he stares at his tiles in the dim light.  
  
Uncertainty written across his features, Gibbs takes one step forward and then another and another until he’s at the bottom of the stairs. He grips the banister tight and looks up towards the darkness of the second floor. When he flips the switch nothing happens and he realizes the power must be out. A transformer probably blew in the storm but he can’t even think to check his fuses or dig out the candles right now. Drawing in a deep breath he makes himself climb the steps until he’s standing in the doorway of his bedroom, staring at Tony’s body laid out on his mattress.  
  
Something eases then. The smell of rain is strong in the room, the windows cracked open to the cool breeze now that the worst of the storm is over. The air smells fresh and slightly electric. A lone candle burns in a shallow dish on the dresser, giving a little warmth to the space. Everything seems less overwhelming here in this moment. The specter of horror and doubt dissipates; the gripping fear and uncertainty of the last few weeks fades. Gibbs heaves out one, long, shuddering breath and feels the weight lifting off of him.  
  
He strips down and slides up behind Tony in the dark.  
  
\--  
  
The world is coming down in flames.  
  
Ziva and McGee are struggling in vain against the bonds binding them back to back, eyes wild with fear as the fire closes in around them.  
  
"Gibbs."  
  
Gibbs whips around to see Tony standing there, hand outstretched.  
  
"It's ok. Come on."  
  
The fire goes quiet, the roar and crackle going silent so quickly that Gibbs momentarily wonders if he's gone suddenly deaf.  
  
"Go back to sleep," Tony smiles, hand covering Gibbs' heart.  
  
"Sleep?" Gibbs asks with confusion. When he looks around the fire is frozen, like a movie on pause. Then everything fades to black and he's swimming against a fog that's covering him like a blanket.  
  
"Yeah, Gibbs. Sleep. It's ok, I got you."  
  
Then he's sucking in cool air and turning into the warmth, letting the darkness pull him back down.  
  
He wakes up curled against a body, face pressed into a firm chest. Tony's awake, staring at the morning light as it starts to come up over the window sill and for a moment Gibbs can only stare at him.  
  
Tony finally glances down, smiling as he smoothes a hand over Gibbs’ shoulders.  
  
"Morning," he says, voice scratchy with sleep.  
  
Gibbs searches his face for a moment and then lays his head back against Tony's chest, eyes going to the window as the red sunrise gives warning.


End file.
